


Chasing Draco

by dracogotgame



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Adaptation of "Taming of the Shrew", Angst, Draco is not a Death Eater, Flawed characters, Fluff, M/M, Narcissa is deceased, Not at all canon compliant, Post War, Slightly OOC characters, Sorry can't help it, This should be obvious tbh, mild dub con, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 09:32:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 47,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5243315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy is every suitor's nightmare. His brazen temper and absolute disregard for the personal safety of others has his father in despair. Enter Harry Potter. Based on 'Taming of the Shrew': An epic tale of Harry and Draco's crazy courtship complete with meddling fathers in law, reluctant fiances, annoying best friends and furniture missiles. Let the madness begin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Eviction of Augustus Beaumont

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic posted here at the request of an old friend. It was originally written for the 2013 Adaptations Fest on bottom_draco at Livejournal. My prompt was: 'The Taming of the Shrew' by William Shakespeare.
> 
> A few warnings are in order:
> 
> There are a few scenes which features mild coercion and/or dubcon depending on how you look at it. Anyone who has even browsed through Shakespeare's 'The Taming of the Shrew' knows that it's...controversial in it's handling of the main female character (to say the least), and some of that has translated into the fic. I just want to point out that I, in no way, agree with or recommend that sort of behaviour. It just happens to be central to the plot. Either way, if it makes you squeamish, please proceed with caution.
> 
> Characters may also be OOC: Again, unavoidable given the nature of the fest.
> 
> Other than that, we should be good. Please enjoy!

Breakfast at Malfoy Manor was a sedate sort of affair. Or at least, Lucius Malfoy - Lord of said Manor - would like to think so. Expensive silverware clinked pleasantly against fine china and the _Daily Prophet_  felt new and crisp in his fingers. Golden sunshine trickled in from the bay windows and bathed the room in a soft morning light, complementing the pleasant conversation at the table. Lucius allowed himself a nod of satisfaction. Everything was in order. In fact, he would go so far to say that everything was just…

**Crash!**

" _Mon cher_ , please! I only meant…"

"Get out! Get the fuck out of my house  **now!** "

"Really, Draco! This behaviour is most unbecoming of a…wait, what are you doing with that…Draco,  **no!** "

**Crash!**

**"Get! Out!"**

A house elf yelped and bolted for the nearest exit, upsetting a suit of armour in the process. Lucius sighed and folded up the  _Prophet_. Seconds later, a series of loud thuds, shrieks and crashes heralded a hasty descend down the Main Staircase and a weedy, young man stumbled into the dining room. His collar was askew, his expensive robes were singed at the hem and Lucius noted - with an arch of his eyebrow and a barely there twitch of his lips - that he was sporting a rather large bump on his forehead.

Apparently, Draco was aiming better these days.

"Lord Beaumont. How nice of you to join us."

Only decades of diligent practice in the fine art of self restraint could have enabled Lucius to greet his hapless guest with such a politely detached expression.

Augustus Beaumont didn't have the benefit of such refined training. He just stood there, sputtering with outrage and flushing a very impressive share of magenta. Lucius waited patiently until the man was coherent enough to commence his tirade.

"Manuscripts! Side tables! Silverware! And that's not all he threw at me!" He gestured wildly to the swelling lump on his head. "That was a First Edition  _Most Potente Potions_  which your son used as an  _assault_  weapon!"

There was a snort of laughter from the table and Lucius raised a stern eyebrow. Blaise Zabini pressed his mouth in a thin, straight line and closed his eyes, apparently willing himself not to laugh. If Lucius listened carefully, he could almost hear the lad counting to ten. To his immediate right, Andromeda Tonks née Black continued to butter her toast as if nothing was amiss. Nevertheless, there was a quirk to her lips that suggested she was trying very hard not to smile. Lucius gave up and turned back to Beaumont who was by no account, finished.

"…a host of  _maisons_  in France! A lineage dating back to the Crusades! An ancestry that would make any pureblood green with envy! And your  _son_  treats me like a…like a…"

"I believe the phrase you're looking for is 'crash test dummy'" Blaise obliged helpfully. "Admittedly, a muggle concept but Draco has it down to a science."

"Eat your toast, young man," Andromeda ordered sternly. Lucius gave her a grateful, if slightly weary nod. Blaise smirked and returned to his breakfast and Beaumont treated him to a withering look before turning back to Lucius.

"Consider this courtship rescinded, Lord Malfoy! The Beaumonts know when to cut their losses. Good luck finding a rider for that - that wild  _horse_  of yours!"

And with that he stormed off dramatically - the effect somewhat ruined by his smouldering robes and shaky gait. Lucius sympathized deeply.  _Most Potente Potions_  was a formidable piece of work. He would know - it had been Narcissa's weapon of choice. Thoughts of his late wife sent a twist of pain to his chest and he distracted himself by glaring at Blaise, who had succumbed to gales of laughter.

"Are you quite finished?" he asked dryly as the boy howled with mirth, thumping helplessly at the table. Andromeda watched the scene with a quiet expression that was certainly not approval, but she didn't seem less amused for lack of it.

Finally Blaise emerged, gulping in deep breaths of air as he did. "I doubt it," he admitted with a grin that made Lucius wish he hadn't completely given up the Dark Arts. He subjected the impudent brat to his best Malfoy Glare. There was another crash from the North Wing, followed by a snarling diatribe on pompous wankers and just what they could do with their oversized egos…

Lucius shook his head hopelessly. "Make yourself useful and see if you can calm him down," he ordered flatly.

Blaise promptly stopped his sniggering. " _Excuse me?_ " he blurted, looking absolutely horrified. "Did you not get a good look at the last bloke who went down that rabbit hole? I don't know what you look for in a good heart to heart but I happen to prefer mine concussion free!"

Lucius opened his mouth to argue and/or hex the annoying little snip, but Andromeda mercifully cut in. "I'll have a word with my nephew," she announced, standing up and making her way towards the stairs. She turned and smiled at Lucius. "Cissa had her moods as well. On a good day, I could talk her out of a strop."

Lucius chuckled. "Let's hope it's a good day then," he commented. Andromeda's smiled again, and then she was gone. Blaise watched her leave intently, waiting until she was well out of sight before emitting a low whistle. "Morgana's lacy underpants! If I was twenty years older and a foot taller, I'd… ow!" He rubbed his head ruefully and glowered at Lucius. "What's that for?"

"Inappropriate breakfast conversation and leering at my guests," Lucius supplied, rubbing his hand. "Additionally, I find you annoying."

"So that's where Draco gets it from," Blaise remarked sulkily.

"Hardly," Lucius replied. "He has his mother's spirit." His steely eyes softened slightly and even an ever tactful fellow like Blaise could sense the need for a change of subject. Thankfully, there was another crash from upstairs as Draco discovered an unfortunate something that had somehow survived his rampage. Blaise chuckled. "So, I take it we need to find another  _rider for your wild horse_. I'll spread the word, shall I?"

Lucius groaned and buried his head in his hands. Blaise smirked and resumed his breakfast. He never said it was a  _good_  change of subject...

* * *

 

Andromeda swept up the marble staircase and made her way over to the West Wing. She suppressed a slight smile. Draco's rooms were always the easiest to find in the Manor. All you had to do was follow the sound of an utter and absolute conniption fit.

She did exactly that and found herself walking a familiar path.

Her nephew was in his half decimated study, pacing like a caged jungle cat. His slim frame was taut with tension and his silver eyes were dark and clouded, giving the impression of a raging thunderstorm. A dark glare marred his patrician features and his blond hair fell over his eyes as he clenched his fists. To the uninformed observer he looked absolutely livid, the very personification of blinding, murderous rage. To Andromeda - who had had the benefit of dealing with Narcissa's volatile mood swings for the better part of her youth - this barely qualified as a temper tantrum.

"Well, we won't be seeing him again in a hurry," she commented lightly. Draco whipped around to face her, his features morphing from scowling displeasure to relief when he saw who had intruded into his quarters. Some of the tension left his shoulders.

"I thought you were Father," he muttered. He walked over to a chair, the broken glass crunching under his leather loafers as he seated himself in a chair. Shrewd, grey eyes swept her face searching for some sort of a reprimand for his behavior. Andromeda smiled and took a seat next to the boy.

"I think he'll keep his distance for a while," she smiled, slipping a slender hand over his. "Your Father has a remarkable sense of self preservation."

Draco's lips quirked but he returned the gesture with a gentle squeeze of his own. "So he sent you into the dragon's lair? That sounds about right."

"I volunteered," Andromeda retorted dryly. "Believe it or not nephew, but you're not as tough as you look."

"Says you," Draco smirked, nudging her gently with his shoulder. It was a simple gesture - one of trust - and Andromeda appreciated it. She was a woman who treasured her family and it had nearly killed her to walk away from them all those years ago. But those had been different times. She had been young and in love and Ted - bless him - had been wonderful to her. The War had taken him and not long after, Narcissa's illness had set in. She had never felt so utterly bereft, so completely alone.

Lucius' letter had come as a shock, to say the least. Not one to offer forgiveness lightly - particularly to the man who had kept her from her sister for a good twenty years - she had _Incendio-ed_  it on the spot. Then another had come and another and another and long story short, Lucius Malfoy proved without a shadow of a doubt that as far as persistence and sheer stubbornness went, Malfoys trumped Blacks hands down.

She finally succumbed to his seventh letter. For someone with very little experience with humility and contrite apologies, he managed beautifully. Andromeda found herself writing back. In his quiet loneliness, she recognized a kindred spirit and in Draco she saw glimpses of the sister she had lost, this time for good. Four years since that first awkward meeting and Andromeda had come to the realization that they were the last of her family. And she didn't have it in her to turn her back on them.

Especially Draco. She sifted a gentle hand through the boy's hair, pushing the blond strands out of his eyes with her fingers. Draco sighed and leaned into the gesture, making her smile fondly. "So just out of curiosity, why was a certain Lord Beaumont evicted from your quarters sans ceremony?"

Draco huffed petulantly. "He's lucky I didn't hex him."

"That, I believe," Andromeda mused. "I assume he put his foot in it something proper then?"

Draco smirked. "Let's just say his choice in literature leaves a lot to be desired," he drawled, passing her a rumpled leather bound book, bent at one of the edges. Not surprising, considering it had recently been used as a launch missile…

" _The Taming of the Shrew?_ " she groaned, reading the title. "Oh, he  _didn't_ …"

"Oh, he did," Draco drawled. "He thought it would be funny to give me  _that_  as a courting gift. Suffice it to say, I did not see the humor in it."

Andromeda shook her head and tossed the book away, well out of sight. Honestly, of all the idiotic things to do… well, it was probably for the best. Beaumont had been a particularly vile specimen and Draco had resented him from the start. He was hardly worthy of a Malfoy. But then her nephew had rejected almost every man to walk through those doors. It shouldn't be a surprise that they were scraping the bottom of the barrel now…

"They're probably not going to get much better," she admitted. "Your suitors, that is."

"Then perhaps I shouldn't be forced to deal with them," Draco snapped, standing up abruptly and starting to pace. "I'm sick of them - witless, spineless, arrogant, bleating  _twits_  who think they can have me, that they're entitled to me just because they're Lord this or Baron that or whatever. Thinking they have the right to stand there in my presence and tell me that I should feel honoured that they're considering me. Talking about how it's the best decision for me considering the Malfoy name is what it is since the War and…" He broke off, apparently too enraged to even finish his tirade. Andromeda sighed and shook her head.

"Oh Draco," she said softly. "It's not as bad as that. Sooner or later, the right man will find his way to you and things will change."

"I don't care!" Draco snarled, whirling back at her. "I am not some cheap trophy to be won at a fair game!"

Andromeda kept her expression neutral as he glared witheringly at her. Finally, the boy hunched his shoulders and retreated. He sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair, messing it up completely. "I'm sorry, Andromeda. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just… I hate this whole charade. I hate them all, every single one of them. It makes me furious and… and now I'm taking it out on you. Please don't be angry with me? I just…"

"Of course not," Andromeda interrupted him softly. She stood up as well and placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You're my nephew and I love you like a son. I want the best for you, you know that don't you?" She smiled as he nodded quietly. "Then please just trust me. I know you don't like this, I know you're upset. But you deserve to find someone who will make you happy. That's all we want for you. Now there's a gentleman your father would like you to meet this evening…" She paused and waited politely until he stopped groaning. "Yes I know. That being said, he seems… better than the others."

"Really?" Draco demanded dryly.

"No," she admitted. "But at least he's your age. And it will do you good to get out of the house for a while. Who knows, he might just surprise you."

Draco snorted inelegantly. "I doubt it."

"What do you have to lose?" the older witch shrugged. She crossed her arms firmly, standing her ground until the sulking boy was forced to relent for once.

"Fine, I'll go," he muttered. "But if it all goes to Hades, it's your fault."

"Fair enough," she laughed. "I'll go and tell your Father the worst is over." She kissed his cheek affectionately and turned to leave. "And remember Draco," she added, facing her nephew again. "If he can't handle you at your worst, he definitely doesn't deserve you at your best."

Draco's grin would have frozen a Basilisk. "That's what I'm counting on."


	2. The Dilemma of Harry Potter

Harry James Potter stomped down the corridors of Chudley Cannons Inc. looking particularly grim. One might even say that he was pissed off, except that one would be dead wrong. Dealing with a murderous Dark Lord for seven straight years had pissed Harry off. Losing the World Cup to Puddlemere United on the other hand, made him fucking furious. Plus, it didn't help that he was being doggedly pursued by the last person he wanted to see under any circumstances- unless a casket and shovel was involved.

"So Potter, any comment on your devastating loss to Puddlemere United? The readers would love to know how you plan to stage a comeback from this shocking fall from grace."

"Go away, Rita."

"Are you planning on switching teams? Mind you, I'm talking about Quidditch here but while we're on that subject, word has it that you've been cruising around town with a string of new boy toys. We'd love to put names to those cute faces."

Harry stopped short and gaped incredulously at the infuriating woman. " _How_  have you not been lynched yet?" It was a sincere question - hell, he'd do it for a Sugar Quill.

"Talent, Potter," Skeeter replied smugly as she adjusted her spectacles and wielded that damned Quick Notes Quill of hers. "Something you're probably not all that familiar with considering the Cannons' dismal performance this season. Do you blame your captain? Your teammates? Perhaps a new lover is a cause for distraction? How about …"

Harry couldn't take any more. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He turned around to face the infuriating reporter and promptly groaned.

"Damn it," he snapped, gesturing exasperatedly at something behind her. "Who told the shirtless male models to show up  _today_  for the new campaign?" Rita squeaked and whirled around at once, giving Harry just enough time to turn tail and bolt for the nearest door. He slammed it shut and put up eight different locking charms before pressing himself against it for good measure.

"Alone at last," he sighed in relief.

"Yeah, not quite," a voice replied promptly. Harry yelped and cast a frantic  _Lumos_ , immediately sagging against the door again when he caught a glance of his cubby buddy. "Oliver," he greeted his morose team captain. "What the hell are you doing in a broom closet?"

Oliver Wood sighed tragically. "What am I doing in a broom closet, he asks. What does anyone do in broom closets, Harry?"

"Erm…"

"I am - as is customary in broom closets - reflecting on my shattered dreams, my broken hopes, the tragic comedy my life has become," Oliver informed him tonelessly.

"Oh," Harry felt obliged to say. "That."

"Plus that Skeeter woman's out there and she scares me."

"Join the club," Harry muttered, flopping down beside him. They sat together in the companionable silence that only blazing victories or grim defeat ever seem to inspire. The only noise came from Skeeter who was still banging up and down the corridors, looking for another hapless victim. Oliver sighed. So did Harry.

"We lost the Cup," Oliver mumbled.

"I'm aware of that," Harry retorted dryly. He was still feeling rather touchy about the whole thing.

"You caught the Snitch," Oliver continued undeterred. "And we  _still_  lost the sodding Cup."

Harry bristled. "I hear that can happen when your Chaser decides to host an impromptu rendition of Swan Lake mid pitch."

"Hey, it's not Heidi's fault her broom spun out of control," Oliver said sagely. "Poor kid's riding a Nimbus, for Merlin's sake. And ease up on the dance cracks, yeah? Last I heard she gave Andrew a black eye for running his mouth."

_Training for the ballet, Potter?_

"Yeah, I can see how that could be annoying," Harry admitted. "Still sucks though. You know what hurts the most? We have the talent, the best sodding players in the game and we lost because of a busted broomstick."

"You're telling me," Oliver grumbled. "Sponsors are fucking bastards is what the problem is. They take one look at the score sheet and they run. It's always the same.  _The Cannons haven't won a game in a century_ , they say.  _Why_  haven't we won a game in a century, you ask? Because we have lousy fucking brooms, that's why!"

Harry scowled at a rusty bucket, mentally willing it to turn into a pile of galleons. "How much do we need anyway? For new equipment and all that?"

Oliver raised an eyebrow and pulled out his wand, scribbling in thin air. Harry swallowed at the golden number shimmering in front of him. "That's a lot of zeros," he said finally.

"And that's just new equipment," Oliver muttered bitterly. "If we can't even cover that, it's goodbye Cannons." He shook his head and got up, dusting himself off. "Well don't let it bother you, Harry. Head in the game, yeah? Something will work out. Always does, in my experience."

Harry nodded reluctantly. Frankly, he didn't feel all that positive. And he was sick of losing, just _because_. But there was no point arguing with Oliver about it. So he said goodbye to his captain and decided to head out into civilization again. A night out was in order to forget this hellish day. Maybe that place with the cute blond bartender... Harry grinned. Life was starting to look a little better.

"Potter, Potter, Potter. Coming out of the closet again? You do make a habit of things."

So much for the day looking better.

Harry found himself scowling at a very familiar, very annoying set of features. "Right," he drawled. "Because this is a broom closet and I'm coming out of it. Hysterical, Zabini. You  _slay_ me. Now go away before I return the favour."

Zabini - arse that he was - took this as an invitation to walk alongside him, chortling all the way. Harry despaired. It was just  _that_  sort of day. "Who let you in here anyway?" he grumbled. "This is a strictly Puddlemere Prat free zone."

"I was in the neighbourhood," Zabini replied blithely. "Thought I'd stop by and say hello. Also, _we won and you lost. Neener neener_  and all that."

"Very original," Harry replied dryly, raising an eyebrow at the Puddlemere chaser. "At least Malfoy's insults always rhymed."

Zabini raised an eyebrow of his own. "He had a lot of practice. Funny you should mention him out of the blue."

"He tends to pop into my head when I come across something particularly unpleasant," Harry retorted, giving the Italian chaser a pointed look. Zabini didn't retort. He was looking thoughtfully at Harry, almost as if he was... analyzing him. Harry could think of few prospects less pleasant than being analyzed by a former Slytherin. "That's your cue to go away," he added helpfully.

Zabini started slightly, then shook himself and smirked. "Because I'm just  _dying_  for your company, Potter. Believe me, I have better things to do. People to see. Trophies to polish."

"Don't let me keep you." Harry smirked back. "Have fun 'polishing your trophy'. And when you're done with that, try a cleaning charm on the Cup."

Blaise chuckled, caught somewhere between amusement and surprise. "I always liked you, Potter."

"Likewise. Oh and just so you know Zabini, if you want that Cup next season, you're going to have to fight for it. Because I'm going after it with everything I've got."

Zabini's grin widened. "I'll hold you to that, Potter."

Harry grinned. "Say hi to Malfoy for me." And then he was gone.

* * *

 

Blaise watched Potter's retreating back, making a mental note of his confident stride and quiet intensity. There was  _something_  about the man that appealed to his inner Slytherin. A fire smouldering beneath all that sweetness-and-light shite.

_Interesting_.

Blaise's smirk made a reappearance as he made for the nearest fireplace.

Seconds later, Lucius' irritable scowl flickered in the flames. "This better be good, Blaise," the older man snapped. "I was in the middle of something imp..."

"It is," Blaise cut in smoothly. He grinned as Lucius' eyes flickered with mild interest. "I found him."


	3. The Altercation with Roland Blake

"How about another one, handsome? It's on the house."

Harry blinked blearily at the pretty thing currently flashing him a billion galleon grin. The blond batted his lashes coquettishly and shot him a come hither look. He'd have been more subtle if he'd been waving a flag that said  _"Do me in the men's!"_  in Harry's face. The Boy Who Lived groaned and thunked his head against the bar.

"He'll take it," his companion replied cheerfully. "And make it a mint julep, will you, hon?"

The boy nodded eagerly and took off; leaving Harry to scowl at the redhead sprawled beside him. Ginny gave him an unrepentant grin and swiped his beer. "That's the  _fourth_  free drink in two hours," she chirped happily. "And I didn't even have to flash anyone! This gay ex-boyfriend thing is seriously underrated."

"I'm so glad you're having fun pimping me out," Harry groused. "No really, it's what I live for."

Ginny rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette with her wand. "At least pretend to be having a good time, Harry. For Merlin's sake, you're out with me. Most men would kill to be in your shoes."

Harry grinned. That much, at least was true. Ginny was a gorgeous woman, all fire and curves and flirty smiles. Frankly, it had freaked him out something awful when he realized he wasn't as into her as he should be. In hindsight, that should have been a sign. Nevertheless it had taken six awkward months of post War dating and an unfortunate, drunken night with Justin Finch-Fletchley to put things in perspective for him.

Ginny had forgiven him easily enough, as had the other Weasleys. Okay, so George had slipped him a Nosebleed Nougat a couple times, but all in all it had been pretty easy coming out to them. Now Ginny was as good a mate as they came and Harry at least, felt that they were closer than ever. Ron and Hermione were amazing, but they had little Hugo taking up every waking moment of their lives now. Their own little family, while Harry had a losing Quidditch team and a string of one night stands. Merlin, that was depressing. He sighed and glowered morosely at his beer.

"Right, that's it," Ginny declared, flicking the cigarette away carelessly. "All this whining and moping is ruining my night. You," she declared, slamming down the beer ( _Harry's_  beer) and fixing him with her  _I'm not taking your crap anymore_  look, "...are getting shagged tonight if it's the last thing you do."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, because  _that's_  my problem."

"What  _is_  your problem?" Ginny demanded. "You're rich, you play Quidditch, you saved the world for Merlin's sake - why can't you just get laid and be happy about it like the rest of us?"

"I don't know. It's a little more complicated than that," Harry replied thoughtfully. "I mean, it gets  _old_  after a while. All I've been doing for five years is riding broomsticks and chasing snitches..."

"And that's just your sex life."

"You're disgusting. And I'm ignoring you. What I mean is... is this it? Playing Quidditch and having meaningless sex with barely legal airheads. You could write my life down on a napkin." He sighed and shook his head, trying to ignore the alcohol induced haze. "After a while you start asking yourself... what's left? Where's the challenge? What the hell am I  _doing_?"

"Oh please," Ginny retorted. "You're bloody morbid is what you are. So you want the happily ever after with the white picket fence and a crup running in the yard. Who doesn't? I mean look at Ron and Hermione, they're so happy. Ron's always got a huge smile on his face." She scowled petulantly. " _Merlin_ , it makes me want to punch him."

Harry couldn't help a tired chuckle. "I know. It's what I want though. I'm just so damn tired of looking."

"Well you can't stop now," Ginny announced firmly. "For all you know, Prince Charming is right here in this bar and you're can't be bothered to get your head out of your arse. Now shut it. I'm going to find your future husband and you're going to buy him a drink."

Harry groaned. "Ginny..."

"Shh," she waved him off, craning her neck to get a look around the bar. She swivelled around with easy grace and promptly froze. "Oh  _damn_."

Harry did not like the sound of that. "What?" he demanded.

Ginny turned to him, grinning ominously. "I found him."

Harry raised a suspicious eyebrow and turned as well, trying to get a good look at her latest victim. A flash of unmistakably blond hair assaulted his vision. Sharp features. Pale, smooth skin. Silver eyes. Harry blinked. Then he swallowed and took a deep breath. Neither helped. They rarely did with Draco Malfoy.

"Rather fit, isn't he?" Ginny mused, sweeping an approving glance over Malfoy - who was apparently seated at a table as if he had every right to be there and turn Harry's world upside down without so much as a 'by your leave'.

That being said, Ginny wasn't wrong. Truth be told, Harry hadn't seen Malfoy in years. They hardly travelled in the same circles and frankly, Harry had little reason to seek out his old school rival. Now though, as he took in Malfoy's lithe frame, his patrician features and that fine,  _fine_  arse he wondered if looking him up would have been the worst thing in the world.

"You're not serious, are you?"

Harry was promptly startled out of his less than innocent musings and turned to face a vaguely amused Ginny. "What?" he managed.

"Well, it's  _Malfoy_ ," she chortled, shaking her head as if the notion was ridiculous. "That's just asking for trouble."

Trouble. Harry could do trouble. He could do Malfoy too, but that was a different story. "I'm going over there," he declared, eyes still fixed on the blond.

"Yes, you do that," Ginny snorted. "I'll just stay here, far  _far_  away from the firing zone."

Harry ignored her and slipped off his stool. His footsteps quickened as he approached Malfoy. Damn, but he looked good. What had it been? Five years? Six? Nothing had changed, really. It felt like he was in Hogwarts all over again. Just looking at Malfoy made him want to storm up to him, grab him by that prissy silk shirt and attack him with his fists and his lips and... okay, so maybe _some_  things had changed.

He was barely halfway across the bar when someone else broke into the Malfoy zone. Harry stopped short as a tall, dark haired bloke slinked over and placed a hand on the blond's shoulder. Malfoy turned and greeted the stranger with a nod. The man grinned and slipped in beside him. Harry froze, standing still as a rock as the stranger's hand travelled up Malfoy's leg. He leered and whispered in the blond's ear. Malfoy sneered in response, which only seemed to encourage his companion. Harry felt his fists clench and  _something_  in his chest growled warningly as the man barged further and further into Malfoy's space. The growling turned into an all out roar as he reached out suddenly to grab Malfoy's chin and pull him into a kiss.

Harry snarled out aloud, inexplicably furious at this turn of events. He hadn't even been aware of Malfoy's existence until a minute back, and now he was physically fighting the urge to yank that bastard  _away_  from the blond and grind him into the pavement. The roaring was so loud he was surprised everybody couldn't hear it and...

And then it happened.

Malfoy pushed the stranger back and his eyes narrowed with sheer, unbridled rage. It all happened so quickly that Harry would have missed it if he had thought to blink. Malfoy swiped a wine glass and promptly emptied what was no doubt a rather expensive Cabernet all over Lover Boy.

Harry's jaw dropped and for a second, he was too stunned to even register the thrill running up his spine.

And then the bloke roared and lunged at Malfoy and Harry found himself running head first into the fray.

* * *

 

It had taken Draco precisely three and a half minutes to decide that he absolutely  _loathed_ Roland Blake. In said time frame, the man had leered at him, made any number of tasteless comments, ordered the wrong wine and spent the remainder of his time perfecting the art of being an arrogant, entitled, self important worm.

"It does get tedious, of course. It's not like I  _asked_  for the physique of a model and the stamina of a racehorse..."

Draco kept his gaze firmly on his fork, trying to remind himself that stabbing someone in the throat was frowned upon in polite society.

"But enough about me," Blake blathered on. He fixed Draco with an insolent grin that made the blond stiffen. "I'd rather talk about the reason we're having this little tête-à-tête wouldn't you, kitten?"

Draco's eyebrow twitched. "I have a name, Blake," he gritted. "Use it."

Blake smirked. "Of course,  _Draco_. Although if I may be so bold, I prefer 'kitten'. After all," a hand dropped down to Draco's leg and traced an idle pattern. "It suits you to a hilt."

"Is that supposed to be charming?" Draco spat, shifting away. The hand on his leg tightened a fraction and Blake's hand snaked around his waist, pulling him uncomfortably close.

"Oh, I can do charming," he purred. "I can do whatever it takes, so long as I have you on your back and me between your..."

That was the proverbial last straw. Draco snarled and pushed back, trying to put as much distance as he could between himself and this... this excrescence. Blake staggered and teetered in his chair, giving Draco just enough time to grab a glass and subject Blake to a face full of his deplorable choice of wine. There was an audible splash and a hushed silence ensued as every eye in the bar turned on them. Somewhere the whirring click of a camera sounded. Great. The  _Prophet_  was going to have a field day with this.

Draco wasn't the least bit bothered. All he cared about was making Roland Blake pay. Besides, he had a lifetime of making public scenes behind him and one more was hardly going to ruin his sterling reputation.

"The hell you will," Draco spat, hatred radiating off of him in waves. Blake blinked stupidly, still dripping. A drop trailed its way down his chin and Draco smirked as he wiped at his face in disbelief. Whatever he had expected, that hadn't been it. Then Blake's face contorted in rage and he was lunging for the blond with a howl. "I'm gonna  _kill_  you, you little..."

Draco backed up against the bar, intending to get enough space to retrieve his wand. Unfortunately, Blake had other ideas. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the slender blond cornered against the bar and he growled and extended a meaty hand, clearly intending to grab Draco by the collar and haul him forward. Draco steeled himself, prepared to go down fighting if he had to - a likely possibility considering that Blake had at  _least_  two stone over him. His heart hammered as a fist flew towards him. Meaty fingers were just inches away from Draco and then... then a firm hand closed around Blake's wrist, wrenching his arm back before he could even touch Draco. The blond blinked as the man was firmly hauled back, bellowing all the way.

"Oi! What the..."

"Not the best idea in the world, mate," the intruder said smoothly situating himself between the two men. Draco blinked as he was presented with a lean, toned back, broad shoulders and a messy mop of dark hair.  _Interesting_. He shifted discreetly, trying to get a glimpse of his saviour. He certainly sounded familiar... not to mention, intriguing. Very intriguing.

Blake wasn't quite so taken. He was leaning more to the side of fucking furious. "Get out of my way,  _mate_ ," he spat, trying to wrench his hand free. "This is between me and that..."

"Perhaps you misunderstood me," the other drawled. His fingers tightened imperceptibly around Blake's wrist and the man winced. "Touch the blond and I'll beat the shite out of you in front of all these nice people. Now I suggest you take what's left of your dignity and Get. Out."

Draco shivered slightly. Obviously, he was experiencing the after effects of shock after almost attacked. It had nothing, absolutely  _nothing_ , to do with the man's low, possessive growl and the clench of his fist - suggesting that he'd like nothing better than to tear Blake apart with his bare hands if he so much as looked at Draco again. No, it was definitely the shock and... and... yeah, all of that.

Blake seemed to be contemplating his options. His eyes flicked from his opponent to Draco to the crowd milling about them. Draco watched with bated breath, as did the rest of the pub. Finally, Blake took a step back, scowling as he retreated. He turned to shoot one last, hateful look at Draco. "This isn't over, Malfoy," he spat.

The man growled and pushed him roughly, shoving him into a table. "You don't talk to him anymore, creep. You go through me, got it?"

Draco resolutely ignored that damned shiver. Blake spat and turned on his heel. Draco watched him storm out of the pub, sagging against the bar. The other patrons shuffled about and dispersed quietly, whispering and shooting him dark looks. Another whirring click of a camera. Draco sighed and rubbed his face wearily with his hand. Talk about  _embarrassing_. Oh, Father was going to love tomorrow's  _Prophet_...

"Alright there?"

Draco nodded shakily, unwilling to make eye contact. A conversation with the man who'd just swooped in and saved him like some sort of damsel in distress was not exactly what his ego needed right now. No, hiding behind his hand was infinitely better. Now if he could just harness the self-will to just Apparate  _away_  and never, ever set foot in public again...

"Hey, it's okay. He's gone." The voice was softer now. Concerned. Draco started as firm but gentle fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist, carefully prying his hand away. "Can you look at me, please? I feel like I'm scaring you."

The blond shook his head vehemently. He was definitely not scared. Just mortified. Somewhat dazed. Maybe a little turned on… he started at the amused chuckle from his new companion. "Then could you maybe look at me, Malfoy?"

Malfoy? Draco frowned. That was odd. No one had addressed him by his last name since school. Hell, the last person who had called him that was...

Oh no.

Oh dear Merlin,  _no_.

Suddenly it was all came together. Badly.  _Very_  badly. Head pounding and heart hammering, Draco looked up into unmistakable green eyes.

Merlin on a pogostick.

"Potter," he croaked. His throat felt very parched all of a sudden. Of course. Of  _course_  it would be Potter. Why bloody not?

"It's been a while," Potter chuckled. "Still can't stay out of trouble, I see."

Draco opened his mouth to say something scathing. Unfortunately, his mental faculties had somewhat deserted him in the face of Potter showing up and saving him.  _Again_.

Potter was looking him over now, apparently assessing him for injuries. His gaze raked over Draco, intense and calculating. He cocked his head, continuing his somewhat... dispassionate examination. The blond immediately crossed his arms, feeling rather discomfited by such blatant scrutiny. Then again, Potter had always discomfited him. The prat.

"You don't look hurt," said prat mused, frowning. "I don't think that bastard actually touched you. But I should probably take a look at..."

He extended a hand, obviously intending to pull the blond forward for a more thorough search. At that, Draco lost his fragile hold on his self control. "Don't  _touch_  me!" he snarled, pushing the taller man away with a strength he hadn't known he possessed. Potter stumbled, reaching back to steady himself against a table. Draco took advantage of the momentary distraction and fled from the pub.

Vaguely, he heard Potter calling his name. It only made him run faster, bolting to the nearest Apparition Point.

His lone comfort as he Apparated back to the Manor was that humiliating as the night had been, at least he won't have to deal with seeing Potter again.

Not a chance in hell.

* * *

 

"Malfoy, wait!"

The blond was out the door and running before Harry could get back on his feet. He steadied himself and took a deep breath, trying to sort things out in his head.  _Damn_  but Malfoy had caught him by surprise. That boy was like an explosion waiting to happen.

His memory flitted with recent images of the Slytherin. Malfoy snarling, grey eyes flaring and lips curled in a defensive sneer. Words as sharp as the hexes he was more than capable of throwing. And apparently, he wasn't afraid of a little physical altercation either. Harry rubbed his side. He must have bruised himself on the table when Malfoy pushed him. His blood flared as he remembered Malfoy's hands on his chest, pale fingers separated from his skin by a thin t-shirt and nothing else. It was...  _something_. Passion and anger and just plain fight. Harry emitted a low whistle. He  _liked_  it.

And he was gone. Damn it, he couldn't let him run off like that!

He was almost ready to sprint after the blond (possibly yell at him for attacking him or snog him senseless, he hadn't decided yet) when he felt someone pull him back. "Slow down, Lover Boy," Ginny drawled. "That ship has sailed." She hauled him back easily. Sometimes it scared him how such a tiny girl could be so strong. He tried to shake himself free. "But I..."

"But nothing, Harry," she said firmly. "He's gone. You can't chase after him like some deranged stalker. And speaking of deranged..." She lifted a deceptively petite hand and smacked him on the back of the head.

"What were you thinking, almost starting a brawl like that?!" she demanded. "Merlin Harry, have you lost your mind?! I am  _telling_  Mum..."

"He was going to attack him!" Harry protested. "And  **ouch**  with the hitting!"

"Sorry," she snapped, rubbing her hand. "And you're a right moron if you think he appreciated it. I saw him push you. What a  _bitch_."

"Yeah well, that's him," Harry chuckled. Honestly, he was more amused than indignant. It was just so  _Malfoy_. "Right little spitfire, isn't he? Think it's too soon to owl him?"

Ginny gaped at him. "We're going home," she declared flatly. "You've obviously suffered a concussion." She shoved his coat at him and grabbed his arm, pulling him out firmly. Harry followed obediently, too preoccupied with thoughts of a certain blond to protest. "Some night, this," he said finally.

"Yeah well, at least its over," Ginny muttered. Harry smirked and she stopped to give him a look. He raised an eyebrow and she groaned. "It's not over, is it?"

Harry smirked. "Not a chance in hell."


	4. The Subtle Scheming of Lucius Malfoy

Lucius sat in his study, listening to the familiar sounds of family heirlooms being hurled unceremoniously at the walls.

**Crash!**

There went another one - possibly a present from a Great Aunt or something... he rubbed his temples. It was one in the morning -  _far_  too late for this nonsense. He didn't even  _want_  to know what Draco was having a strop about this time. He had come raging in about an hour ago and had promptly barricaded himself in his room after kicking out the house elves. As far as Lucius was concerned, the whole charade was exhausting. He didn't even register the slim fingers brushing against his wrist, until his hand was gently pulled away.

"He's in a fine mood tonight," Andromeda commented. Her touch was gentle to his frayed nerves and he noted - as any worthy Slytherin would - that her thumb was absently rubbing his wrist, fluttering against the pulse point. It was... oddly soothing.

**Crash!**

"Did he say anything to you?" he asked her.

"Just something about never taking my advice again," she quipped dryly. "Which reminds me, I do recall telling you that Roland Blake was a terrible prospect to begin with."

"Ah. The secret weapon of all womankind. The infamous  _I told you so_ ," Lucius drawled. "Narcissa was quite adept at that."

"I taught her well," Andromeda replied with a laugh, but she removed her hand from his all the same. He refused to acknowledge the pang of disappointment. Instead, he focused himself on the sounds of his son decimating what was left of his room.

"Perhaps I should just give up," he mused. "The boy is clearly... unstable. And certainly not ready for marriage."

"Lucius!" Andromeda protested at once. "Draco is certainly not unstable. He's just..."

"A raging pit of fathomless fury?" Lucius intoned.

The witch rolled her eyes. "I was going to say 'difficult'. He's young, Lucius. And stubborn and opinionated and proud. He needs someone who can manage him. Deal with him."

"What he needs is a leash and shock collar."

"Lucius Malfoy! That is my nephew you're talking about!" He almost chuckled at her look of indignation. Andromeda huffed, her thoughtful frown deepening. "Perhaps you should consider giving him some time. Instead of throwing random - and might I add - useless suitors at him who run for the hills the second things become a little rough."

He was about to respond that having a side table hurled at one's frontal cortex was hardly his definition of 'a little rough', when a familiar intruder barged in, interrupting them.

"Do you not  _have_  a home of your own?" Lucius demanded. "If memory serves your mother acquired a charming little chateau from her last husband. Might I suggest barging in there unannounced in the dead of the night?"

" _Well!_ " Blaise sniffed disparagingly. "See if I do you any favours again."

Lucius raised an eyebrow and the younger man smirked, tossing some photographs on the table. "They were going to run them in tomorrow's Prophet," he explained. "I had to Confound a few people, but there you have it. You're  _welcome_."

Lucius sifted through the photographs carefully, Andromeda leaning in to peer curiously as well. By the time they had finished, the older witch was wide eyed and apparently speechless. Even Lucius' schooled mask was somewhat strained.

"How did you come by these?" Andromeda asked carefully.

"I have an… understanding with the  _Prophet_ 's Editor in Chief," Blaise smirked. "Gwen is most accommodating. Very,  _very_  accommodating actually…"

"Spare me the details of your latest fling, Zabini," Lucius intoned flatly. "And tell me what these are all about."

"Well, they sort of speak for themselves, don't they?" Blaise said cheerily, taking the pictures and flipping them on the table one by one. "There's Blake starting to act a little fresh with our young Draco - terrible fellow, by the way. He supports the Falmouth Falcons, can you imagine? Oh and there's our Draco in full form, responding with a somewhat questionable Cabernet. And then there's  _this_  one, my personal favourite…"

"Potter," Lucius cut in, his eyes roving the picture of the young man. It was definitely Potter. He had situated himself firmly between Draco and his attacker. His hand was around Blake's wrist, holding him back as he shielded Draco from what promised to be a brutal altercation. And, Lucius noted with keen interest, the boy looked furious. His profile was rigid, his eyes were flashing and his jaw was clenched. The picture moved and Potter flung Blake back easily. He looked… predatory.

"I told you he was your man," Blaise put in smugly. Lucius' lip curled up in a silent smirk. This was… promising.

"Indeed," he drawled.  _Very_  promising.

Andromeda raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Lucius? Just what are you plotting now?"

"Why nothing, my dear," Lucius answered smoothly. "It's just struck me that it's been a while since I took in a Quidditch match. Zabini, surely you can arrange something?"

"I'll be glad to," Blaise chuckled. Andromeda sighed and buried her face in a slim hand. This would not end well.

* * *

 

"Damn it, Heidi!" Oliver howled; dodging as an errant Cleansweep spun right across the goal post. "Watch where you're steering!"

"Piss off, Wood! You try getting this thing to fly straight!"

Harry dodged a Bludger with practiced ease but he couldn't bring himself to search for the Snitch. Practice was a disaster and just the sight of his ramshackle team was enough to send him spiralling into depression. It was horrible. The broomsticks were practically in splinters, the Beaters bats were falling apart and he was pretty sure that Bludger was drunk. It was spinning around in circles now, buzzing in a highly non-Bludger like fashion. It was too painful to watch.

"I'm taking five," he yelled to no one in particular and swooped down. As soon as his feet touched the ground, he hoisted up his broomstick and marched for the stands, slumping down in a chair and rubbing his eyes wearily. He hadn't had much sleep the past week. Between practice and his mind working overtime on a certain, snarky blond at every waking moment that wasn't practice, he was a wreck.

From where he was sitting, he had a fantastic view of a Chaser crash head first into a Beater who wasn't paying close attention. Harry slumped further in his seat.

"Interesting manoeuvre. Although my understanding of the sport is that teams are usually on the same side."

Harry nearly fell out of his seat as he whirled around in alarm. "You!" he sputtered. "What the hell are… how did you even get in here?!"

"I have my sources," Lucius Malfoy smirked at the scowling boy.

"I am going to  _murder_  Zabini," Harry growled.

"An admirable sentiment," Lucius drawled. "And one I identify strongly with on my best days."

Harry bit back the urge to run around in circles, screaming at the top of his lungs. If it had come to the point that he was having a semi amiable conversation with an ex Death Eater who had tried to off him on more than one occasion while his Quidditch Team merrily went about sabotaging themselves, life was suddenly  _very_  complicated. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked wearily.

"An hour out of your busy schedule," the older man answered, running an elegant hand down his robe, smoothening imaginary wrinkles. Harry sneered, apparently in no mood to cooperate. "It's about my son," Lucius cut in before he could refuse or storm off.

Harry stopped short and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'm listening," he said slowly.

The older man smirked. "Walk with me, Mr. Potter. We have much to discuss."


	5. The Deal with Harry Potter

"You've lost your mind. You've gone  _completely_  round the twist!"

Lucius rolled his eyes at the boy's melodramatics. Two minutes and he already had something in common with Draco. He had definitely chosen well. Nevertheless, it was essential that Potter see sense and cooperate.

"You're overreacting, Mr. Potter," he drawled. "What I'm suggesting is a perfectly acceptable practice."

Potter laughed - the sound high-pitched and somewhat close to hysterical. "Oh,  _sure_. Happens all the time, I'll bet. Do you have any idea what you're  _saying_? You're… he… how could you _possibly_ …"

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "What I'm saying, Mr. Potter…"

"Harry."

"I beg your pardon?"

The boy scrubbed his face tiredly. "If we're having this discussion, you may as well call me Harry. I have enough to deal with without trying to remember who the hell Mr. Potter is."

Lucius suppressed a sneer. "Very well then,  _Harry_. I admit that you were never my first choice for this… arrangement."

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Or my second. Or my four hundredth," Lucius gritted out. "However, certain… incidents that have come to my attention have convinced me otherwise."

"Like what exactly?" Potter demanded. Lucius retrieved the photographs from his robes with a dramatic flair and presented them to the boy. Potter sifted through one after another, and by the time he was finished, his mouth was pressed in a hard, straight line.

"I've seen the way you look at him," Lucius said smoothly. "Don't try telling me you're entirely uninvested in this."

"He was being cornered and I helped," Potter spat. "Got pushed around for my trouble too. And I'm certainly not going to  _marry_  your lunatic son just because no one else will!"

"You're interested," Lucius repeated.

"Not  _that_  interested," Potter replied firmly. "I'm sorry but I don't see it. And by the way? You may want to check up with Draco about how he feels about throwing his lot in with me. Yeah, do that and see what happens. I hope he gives you a concussion."

"Draco will see sense. Eventually." Potter snorted disbelievingly and Lucius chose to ignore him. "He has much to gain from this match. You're a powerful wizard, more than financially established if your Gringotts accounts are anything to go by…"

"You checked my  _accounts_?!"

"Naturally, Potter. This is my son we're talking about. And I am determined that he make the best decision for his future."

"And that's me," Potter intoned flatly.

"As much as it pains me to say so, yes. Yes, you are."

"Well thank you for that shining endorsement, but I'm going to pass." Potter's eyes glinted like daggers and his voice had dropped to sub zero. "In case you haven't noticed, I've had a lifetime of people using my name to further their prospects. So thanks for the offer, really. But I don't really see what's in it for me."

Lucius couldn't help a dark chuckle. "Gryffindor has ruined you, boy," he smirked. "Do you really think that I'd ask you for something without making an offer of my own? My dear boy, you insult me. You stand to gain substantially from my proposal."

"There is  _nothing_  you can offer me that will make me consider spending the rest of my life with..."

"You're bored, aren't you Potter?" Lucius drawled. He gauged the boy for his reaction. His fists were clenched but he was still listening. That would have to do. "The madness, the thrill of constant danger - it's all gone away, hasn't it? Oh sure, the peace was great at first. You got your life back together, joined the Quidditch team - you lived the dream. But now… now it's all coming together, isn't it? No one is interesting enough to hold your attention. No one is talking to you - they're talking at you, what they think you are or should be. Everyone is always _so_ accommodating, going out of their way to please you, be seen with you, be friends with you - and you hate it, don't you? You miss the fight of it, the challenge. You need something to hold your interest. And I assure you, Mr. Potter," Lucius met the young man's stare steadily as ever. "Draco has  _always_  held your interest."

"Interest is not enough to make a marriage," Potter growled.

"No. But it's certainly a promising way to start," Lucius countered smoothly. "A courtship, Mr. Potter is merely an agreement. One that you're free to walk away from should you choose to - hardly a risky venture."

The boy tensed. He started pacing, taking in the pitch with long strides. Lucius watched his retreating back with schooled interest. Finally, Potter returned. "I'm going to need something more," he said firmly.

"And what would that be?" Lucius asked.

Potter's gaze flicked to the sky, watching his team practice. Lucius suppressed a wince as a Chaser lost control of his broom and crashed full force into a goal post. "Do something about this," Potter said. "And you have a deal. I  _want_  that Cup."

"Well played, Mr. Potter," Lucius smirked, pulling out a wand and whispering a discreet incantation. "How does this look for an initial...donation?"

Potter observed the shimmering numbers dispassionately, before letting the faintest smirk hint at his lips. "Another zero at the end wouldn't be remiss," he drawled.

Lucius smirked. He had definitely chosen well. "I'll be in touch, Mr. Potter. Welcome to the family, so to speak."

"Malfoy."

Lucius turned around sending the younger man an enquiring look. Potter frowned. "How can you trust your only son with me? How do you know I'm not going to hurt him?"

Lucius chuckled. "Have you  _met_  Draco, Mr. Potter? Frankly, I'm more worried about you. Good day."

* * *

 

When Harry went to bed that night, he was tired, confused and restless. He still wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to go and make that bizarre deal with Lucius Malfoy. Marrying Draco Malfoy for a stash of brooms seemed a whole lot stupider in the silence of his bedroom. It had seemed like a… reasonable idea at the time.

At least Oliver was happy. Harry snorted. The man had almost burst into tears when Harry had presented him with a cheque from a 'long time Canons admirer who wished to remain anonymous'. Malfoy was definitely taking no chances. Harry had of course, been duly sworn to secrecy – not that he had any plans of shouting from the rooftops.

The idea of telling Ginny made him shudder. Merlin, she'd fly through the roof if she got wind of this. And he didn't even want to know what Ron's reaction would be. Or Hermione's. Or Molly's… oh God, what had he  _done_? If he couldn't even talk  _himself_  through the whole thing without having a panic attack, how the hell was he supposed to explain himself to them?

And then there was Malfoy. Irrational, dangerous,  _raging_  Malfoy who was going to be  _furious_  at this turn of events, who was going to go in kicking and screaming all the way, who was going to make life for Harry an absolute nightmare, thank you very much… and Harry would have to court that harpy, try to convince him to spend the rest of his life with him.

Malfoy would probably curse him on sight. No, first he'd try torture. No, that wasn't it either. Malfoy would probably just lunge for his throat instead. Yeah, that sounded about right. He was just going to pounce, snarling like an animal, eyes blazing with fury as he wrapped his slim, aristocratic fingers around Harry's neck… he'd probably try scratching him too - Malfoy looked like a scratcher. He'd rake his nails into Harry's skin, digging deeper and deeper until he drew blood and left red welts all over, screaming obscenities all the way. Of course, Harry wasn't going down that easy. He'd probably be doing some fantastic screaming himself and when Malfoy went for his eyes, he would swing around and pin the poncy little brat to the floor. Malfoy's silver eyes would widen in surprise, his slim body stilling with the sudden shock of finding himself at a disadvantage. And then, that familiar flash of anger would return and he would start struggling again - except  _this_  time Harry would have the advantage. No way was Malfoy using him as a scratching post again! No, he would hold him down with one hand, and with the other he would  _rip_  that prissy, expensive silk shirt right off his body. Fabric would tear and buttons would pop and scatter to the floor and Malfoy would  _writhe_  and scream under him until Harry would just snap and silence the chit by  _crushing_  his mouth against Malfoy's and… and…

Harry blinked.

Well. That was unexpected.

He took a deep breath and tossed the covers back, noting - with some annoyance - that that little runaway fantasy had given him something of a hard on.

Perfect.

Cursing Malfoy fluently under his breath, he sat up and scrubbed his face. Now the prat was messing with his sleep. Why did every single thing have to lead right back to Malfoy? What  _was_  it about that smarmy, pointy ferret? And why couldn't he stop thinking about him?!

Harry scowled and pushed at his bedside table petulantly, his eye catching the flutter of something falling to the ground. Frowning, he reached out and picked it up. A photograph… oh right, Lucius had given him those pictures. This one was of Malfoy shoving him right before he took off from the pub. The blond was pressed right against him with his hands on Harry's chest. His pretty mouth was twisted in a sneer as he tried to shove Harry out of the way, his lithe frame pressed against the taller boy for a split second before he broke free and ran off. Harry felt a shiver run through his spine at the memory. Malfoy pressing against him, his hands on his chest… his photograph self didn't seem inclined to let Malfoy go either. The Harry in the picture was leaning forward as if he wanted nothing more than to grab hold of the blond and not let go. The second Malfoy pushed at him, his hand clenched in thin air. It was not an attempt to break his fall. He was trying to grab Draco, try and keep him from leaving.

And now… now he had him.

Harry grinned and let the picture fall back on the desk. Whatever life was with Malfoy, it wouldn't be boring. That was for sure. And who knew? Perhaps he would be the lucky one to finally tame the dragon. Of course, there was always the risk of getting killed in the process but since when had  _that_  stopped Harry? At the very least, the Slytherin promised to be interesting.

All Harry knew as he slid under his sheets again was that if it was a fight Malfoy wanted, he was going to get it.

Let the games begin.


	6. The Wrath of Draco Malfoy (Part 1)

**One week later…**

Andromeda was in the study when she heard the first splinter of breaking glass. She cocked her head curiously. Lady Druella's prized crystal vase, perhaps? Excellent, she had always hated that abomination. There was an earth shattering crash as something heavy hurtled down the stairs. She sincerely hoped it was her sainted Mother's armoire. Why Cissa had ever kept that horrendous thing around, she would never know.

At least Draco had impeccable taste. He always destroyed the ugliest pieces first.

The next sounds that followed from the West Wing were shouts of pure, unadulterated rage mingled with various threats and promises of a slow, unimaginable death. Merlin, she hoped Lucius had a good Shielding Charm handy…

Then again, considering what he'd done this morning, she was rather certain he deserved everything that was coming to him.

She mentally wished both the Malfoy men her very best and blithely resumed reading the  _Prophet_.

* * *

 

Blaise was in the kitchen, nicking a sandwich from Tibby - his favourite Malfoy elf - when he heard the crash. He jumped and promptly dropped it. Tibby wheezed in apparent disapproval and Vanished the mess, setting about making him another sandwich at once.

The commotion was promptly followed up by what sounded like a dragon stepping on a hot coal. In the midst of the shouts and the death threats, Blaise could just about make out Lucius' placating tone.

"What the hell is going on up there?" he demanded.

Tibby merely sniffed and handed him the  _Prophet_. Blaise scanned the headlines intently. By the time he was finished, he was torn between laughing… and rolling on the floor laughing until he burst a seam.

Much to Tibby's displeasure, he chose the latter. The sandwich lay forgotten on the counter.

* * *

 

Harry was in Malfoy Manor, skulking about the Grand Staircase when he heard an almighty crash. The next second, he yelped and jumped out of the way; just narrowly missing being crushed to death by an eighteenth century mahogany armoire that had been hurled down said staircase.

"Well then, guess he's seen the  _Prophet_ ," he murmured to himself.

To be fair, when Lucius had sent him an owl with the Manor's Apparition coordinates he'd been taken by surprise as well. He had half suspected that the man had dropped his ridiculous ploy altogether (and  _no_ , he did  _not_  feel a smidge of disappointment at the thought, thank you very much). Then, he had seen the  _Prophet_  and… yeah. Well, never let it be said that Malfoys do anything by half.

_Draco_  Malfoy, for example was going to viciously murder all of them by the time this was over. Harry's only consolation was that he was going to go for his father first.

Oh well. Nothing he hadn't seen before.

He shrugged, took a few, fair steps away from the Staircase of Pain and Death and waited - to meet his new fiancé or cart Lucius' mangled remains over to Saint Mungos, he wasn't quite sure which yet.

Either way, it promised to be fun. No sense in waiting down here, was there? With a grin, Harry sauntered up the staircase.

* * *

 

Lucius Malfoy was trying to avoid having his entrails served to him on a cold platter at the time of the aforementioned crash. He watched the armoire hurtle down the stairs with a detached sort of fascination. Say what you will about Draco - the boy had flair. Once again, he tried to reason with his furious and dangerously vindictive offspring.

"This is entirely uncalled for, Draco," he drawled, dusting some fallen plaster off his robes. "I am fairly certain that Malfoy decorum frowns upon trying to murder one's sire."

"Oh I'm not going to murder you,  _Father_ ," Draco hissed. "At least not until I've personally tortured you to my utter and complete satisfaction."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps it's a good thing you never joined the Death Eaters," he smirked. "You would have outranked us all in a year or two."

Draco snarled and pointed his wand at an old tapestry which obliged by bursting into shreds. Then he turned on his father again. "You think this is  _funny_?" he demanded. "You dare to… you have the absolute nerve to make jokes right now?!"

"Calm down, son."

That was in hindsight, the wrong thing to say. Draco nearly imploded. "I will  **not**  calm down!" he howled, wielding a copy of the  _Prophet_. "I will not calm down or listen to reason or any such stupid sodding thing until you explain this shite!" He ripped through the unfortunate  _Prophet_ , scanning the headlines for the announcement Lucius had personally sent to the Editor last night.

_"Malfoy heir chooses Mystery Suitor,"_  Draco spat, reading out loud from the page.  _"It appears that the wait is finally over. In a surprising turn of events, Lucius Malfoy has announced that his son and heir to the Malfoy fortune, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, has finally - we repeat,_ _ **finally**_ _\- chosen a worthy suitor. The identity of Malfoy's Mystery Lover has not been revealed yet, resulting in wide scale speculations. "Could be that bass player from the Weird Sisters," said Astoria Greengrass, a close personal friend of the Malfoys. "Assuming of course that they took care of that pecker shrinking hex Draco used on him last year." Lucius Malfoy did not comment, stating only that his son had 'chosen well and had done the family name proud.' The younger Malfoy who is publicly known for leaving strings of broken hearts (and limbs) in his wake was unavailable for comment, immediately sparking rumours of elopement. Lucius Malfoy went on to put these rumours to rest, citing that the young couple merely wished for some privacy before making their courtship public (a Prophet exclusive, coming soon!). This reporter speculates a story like never before. Just who is the mysterious stranger who snagged the heart of our resident Ice Prince? Do you have a lucky guess? Write in to the Prophet at…"_

"Yes, yes I read that tripe, no need to repeat it," Lucius drawled. "That Skeeter wench really likes to milk it, doesn't she?"

Draco was reaching new and previously unseen levels of apoplectic. "You're on thin  _fucking_ ice!" he bellowed. "You have exactly ten seconds to explain what the hell this is all about before I... I…" His eyes darted around the room wildly, landing on an ancient fourteenth century, two thousand page manuscript that had been in the family for generations.

"Honestly," Lucius sighed, deflecting the book easily as it made a beeline for his frontal cortex. "You're just like your mother."

"Mother wouldn't have force fed you your own intestines," Draco sneered. "Which is precisely what I'm going to do if you don't tell me the name of the sorry bastard you're trying to shove down my throat this time!"

"Ah, of course. I imagine you're eager to meet your fiancé."

"I  **don't**  have a fiancé!" Draco snarled. "What I have is a Father who doesn't know when to quit and a potential murder trial!" His eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at his unimpressed, and somewhat amused sire. "And Merlin as my witness, when I'm done with you, I'm going after the poor sod you dragged into your crazy scheme and I'm going to make him  _suffer_!"

"How delightful," Lucius smirked. "By happy coincidence, he's downstairs waiting for you. I'll tell him where to find you, shall I?" He turned on his heel and exited, ignoring Draco's howl of outrage. A belated thought crossed his mind and he turned back to face his simmering son. "Oh and if I haven't said it already, Draco… congratulations."

He barely made it out the door before the vase shattered inches from where his head had been a second ago.

Potter was outside, leaning languidly against a wall as he eavesdropped blatantly. He smirked at Lucius as the older man straightened his robes. "Problem?" he enquired dryly.

Lucius smirked back. " _Your_  problem," he drawled. "Good luck, young man."

He allowed himself a chuckle as he turned and left, his footsteps echoing across the hall.

* * *

 

_Bastard_ , Harry mused with a twinge of amusement as he watched Lucius saunter off. And that was the least of his problems. Momentarily, he reflected on what was waiting for him on the other side of that door.

Malfoy was obviously pacing, practically ricocheting of the walls if his frantic footsteps were anything to go by. And he was snarling something about... Harry frowned and pressed his ear to the door…  _feed him his own_ _ **what**_ _?_  Harry chuckled.

Well, no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Besides, he knew what he was getting into. Malfoy didn't. He had the distinct advantage of the element of surprise and he was going to have to make the most of it. Fast. Before Malfoy decided to feed him his own… well, never mind.

Taking a deep breath, he shrugged the door open and stepped inside.

The sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks. Harry gasped softly.

Malfoy was still engrossed in his pacing and had mercifully not noticed him. He was clad in a white shirt and black trousers, the lithe planes of his body visible against the thin, silky material. His blond hair was tousled - a stark contrast to his usual, impeccable appearance - and damn, if Harry didn't like it. His mouth was a hard, pressed line despite those soft, full lips and his grey eyes glared defiantly at nothing in particular. He was obviously working himself up into a fine rage. And he looked  _brilliant_. Who knew Malfoy could look quite so fetching? Harry had thought he looked gorgeous in the shadows of that dank, dimly lit pub, but here in his element… he was  _stunning_. A wild, untamed animal out to prowl and Harry was more than willing to offer himself up for the hunt. All his doubts from the previous night vanished in thin air as he let his eyes rake over the blond indolently. He was just so…

"Perfect," he said out loud.

Mistake number one.

Malfoy caught the whisper and stiffened, turning around at once. His body went rigid and his eyes went so wide that for a second all Harry could see in that pale face was pools of stormy grey. His lips parted and he emitted a soft breath, apparently too shocked out of his wits to move.

It was a good look for him, Harry thought.

He planned on saying so too… except that Malfoy cut him off with a roar of fury and pulled out his wand.

And that was the precise moment that the world went to hell.

 


	7. The Wrath of Draco Malfoy (Part 2)

Mistake number two? Well, that would be taking cover from Malfoy's onslaught behind a rickety chair when there was a perfectly good, solid desk not ten feet away. Hex after hex flew past him as he crouched behind his makeshift shield.

Harry hissed as a Stinging Hex singed him. This was going to be harder than he thought. Malfoy seemed to know an impressive number of dangerous spells.

And then the desk was hurtling towards him with point blank accuracy and Harry just about managed to scrabble out of the way with seconds to spare. It crashed against the wall with astounding force, landing on the floor in a heap of kindling.

" **You!** " Malfoy snarled, apparently caught somewhere between utter disbelief and white hot rage. His wand was pointing at Harry's chest - a slim, ebony weapon of pure destruction. "Fucking hell, it's  _you_!"

"Too right," Harry grinned, righting himself easily. "Thanks for the warm welcome."

"What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?" Draco spat. "What is this?"

"Haven't figured it out yet?" Harry asked. "I'd make a blond joke but that would probably end with me impaled on your wand." He grinned and raised an eyebrow at the furious blond. "Not entirely a bad thing, if you catch my drift."

"Shut up!" Draco snarled, casting a Stunner. Harry deflected it easily - he'd been expecting that.

"Temper, temper," he crooned aggravatingly. "We'll have to work on that now that we're officially engaged."

" **We are not engaged!** " Malfoy snarled, sending a potentially lethal looking hex at him. Harry deflected it again, sending it hurtling out the window.

"Course we are," he replied cheerfully. "Don't you read the papers? By the way,  _excellent_  job on the Weird Sisters bass player."

"A standard pecker shrinking hex," Draco sneered. "Care for a demonstration?"

Harry laughed. "Wouldn't be much use to you then, would I?" he asked, lazily eyeing the blond. He delighted in Draco's surprised blink. The sudden change of tactics had caught him off guard. Harry took a cautious step towards the blond, only to encourage an immediate retreat.

"Get away from me!" Draco snapped, backing away quickly. "Don't  _touch_  me, Potter!"

"I remember you saying that before," Harry mused. "When was that again? Oh right, when I saved your scrawny little neck from that brute at the pub. Funny, I don't remember you thanking me for that."

"I had it under control," Malfoy gritted reluctantly.

"Sure you did," Harry retorted. "Right up to the part where he nearly strangled you and I had to step in to save your pretty, little arse. Again."

Malfoy scowled at him. "Nobody asked for your help, Potter."

"Well, you got it," Harry growled. "I wasn't going to stand around and watch you get pushed around."

Malfoy seemed surprised by that. He opened his mouth - probably to say something utterly prattish - and then closed it again, looking somewhat flummoxed. Harry chuckled and moved closer to him so that they were almost touching. "Can we just sit and talk about this? I promise I won't bite - unless you're into that sort of thing."

The blond's eyes narrowed again as his previous predicament were brought to the forefront. "No!" he spat. "You're leaving right now!" He planted his hands on Harry's chest as if to push past him, but Harry was prepared for that. He side-stepped the blond and nicked his wand neatly, much to Draco's chagrin. Then he grabbed hold of the man's slim wrist, taking care not to manhandle him but holding him firmly in place.

"I'm not going anywhere until you thank me," the Gryffindor purred. "And neither are you."

Draco made a frustrated noise and struggled but it was useless. Harry definitely had him as far as brute strength went. Finally he stopped his squirming, and just stood there glowering stubbornly.

"I'll spend the night here if I have to," Harry grinned. "Although, I figured you'd want to wait until you have a ring on your finger for that."

He had no doubt that if Draco had the use of both his hands, they'd be around his throat by now. As it were, the blond visibly paled at that suggestion. "Fine!  _Thank you_!" he spat, trying to extricate himself rather frantically now. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Harry replied. He pulled the blond flush against his body with a sharp tug and brought that pretty wrist to his mouth, kissing it chastely before letting go. Draco's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, cradling his wrist against his chest as if afraid it would be snatched up again. Harry couldn't help a cheeky grin. "Now was that so hard?"

Draco growled threateningly and he stepped away. The blond retreated as well, huddling in a corner and watching Harry with wary, grey eyes. "You're a sociopath," he accused, conveniently forgetting that he was the one launching furniture missiles not ten minutes ago.

"Probably," Harry agreed cheerfully. "Lucky I have my sweet, mild mannered fiancé to smooth things over, eh? Which reminds me, I'll pick you up at seven for dinner tomorrow."

" _What?!_ "

"Well, I would have mentioned it sooner except you…" he dodged the book Malfoy promptly hurled at his head. "…were busy doing that."

Malfoy snarled and tugged at his blond hair in abject frustration. Harry smirked as he stomped over, pointing a threatening finger in his face. "Listen  _carefully_ ," Malfoy intoned in a livid hiss. "I don't know what you think you're doing or what's going on in that oversized Gryffindor head of yours. I have had a long,  _confusing_  day and there's a lot I don't understand right now. But I do know this - you're going to have to  _drag_  me from this Manor kicking and screaming. I will put you through hell before I do  _anything_  you want and I will not...  **not**  be a part of whatever mad scheme you're on to this time. I will  **not**! Do you understand me, Potter?"

"Perfectly," Harry smirked. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."

" **Don't call me** … are you even listening? I am not going anywhere with you! Not unless you drag my stiff, cold corpse…"

"Yes yes, you'll make life a living hell for me, I'll rue the day I crossed you etcetera etcetera. Much as I enjoy this scintillating conversation, I really have to get back to Quidditch practice. Be sure to dress fancy for tomorrow, yeah?" Harry had the utter gall to lean over and give the blond a quick peck on the cheek before walking away.

"Potter! You crazy, delusional  **freak!**  I told you I'm not going to dinner with you!"

"Oh I think you will," Harry chuckled, pulling out something from his back pocket. "Or I'll just have to hold on to  _this_  until you're more… accommodating." He waved Draco's stolen wand aggravatingly, before giving him a cheeky wink and taking off.

As he bolted down the stairs and out the nearest exit, he vaguely wondered if the Slytherin would make dinner any easier on him.

" **FATHER!**  YOU'RE A  **DEAD MAN!** "

Harry chuckled.

Probably not.

* * *

 

"Well, I hope you're happy," Andromeda drawled, sitting next to her smirking companion. "Now he's out for blood."

"Oh indeed," Lucius chortled, evidently very pleased with himself. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be glad for a Gryffindor in my house."

"Which reminds me, Lucius… Harry  _Potter_? Really?"

"Surely you don't plan to tell me you disapprove. I happen to remember you being rather taken with the brat."

"Harry is a remarkable young man," Andromeda admitted. "I am very fond of him. That being said, what on  _earth_  were you thinking?"

"Merely that Potter might be the solution to all our problems. He's well placed; abysmally brave - or stupid as the case may be - and apparently he has a death wish. He's perfect."

"It's not me you need to convince, Lucius," she quipped raising an eyebrow. "Your son begs to differ."

"My son has had his chances. Several of them," Lucius retorted. " _I'm_  the Lord of this Manor and I will do what I think is best."

"Yes well, do try to remember that when Draco stabs you in your sleep," she smirked.

Lucius frowned. "He wouldn't."

Andromeda merely shrugged and shot him one of her most charming smiles. "I would."

"Sometimes I forget you're a Black."

She laughed and patted his shoulder. He inhaled sharply as those long, slender fingers brushed absently at his hair as they retreated. "Lock your door tonight, Lord of the Manor," she threw over her shoulder as she left.

And Lucius did not let his eyes linger on the gentle sway of her hips as she walked away. Most certainly not.


	8. The Peculiar Predicament of Harry Potter

Draco was on the verge of a panic attack.

He had spent the last day and a half alternating between sulking moodily in the gardens and _Incendioing_  portraits of family members who annoyed him. Great Grandfather Abraxas was a prick anyway.

Now it was nearly four in the afternoon, and he had just received an owl from Potter reminding him about that blighted dinner. There was no doubt his 'fiancé' was going to show up as promised. Which was seldom a problem for Draco. It was simply a matter of evicting said fiancé by means of death threats, force and in one memorable case - killer peacocks from the garden.

Except that Potter was barking mad and clearly not to be trifled with.

Draco kicked at a side table angrily. How could his own father have tied him down with that lunatic? Potter was  _insane_! He rode dragons and battled Dementors and eliminated evil dark wizards intent on taking over the world without so much as a by your leave! Who  _did_  shite like that? A sane man would run for his life when assaulted with hexes and flying furniture. A sane man would bolt out the door at once and never come back. A sane man would most certainly _not_  nick his wand and hold him to ransom with it! And kiss him on the cheek as if he were some sort of starry eyed girl! The nerve! The absolute audacity! The… the…  **GAAAH!**

No. No, this had to end. He could not, absolutely  _not_  see Potter again. It didn't matter how fit the bastard was or how his eyes flared when he looked Draco over or… or…

**DAMN IT!**

Resolutely, Draco marched out of his quarters and over to Father's study.

He couldn't handle Potter's mind games a second longer. Not without complete losing what was left of his sanity.

* * *

 

"Take it back."

Lucius resolutely kept his gaze on his Gringotts statement, refusing to meet eyes with his sulking son. "No," he replied simply.

There was a resounding huff of indignation and Lucius smirked. He was sure Draco was pouting. He always resorted to blatant manipulation when his tantrums didn't work. "Just call the  _Prophet_ and tell them it was a mistake," he demanded petulantly. "Or that Potter died in a fiery accident. I'll even arrange for it to happen so you don't look like an arse. Just make it _stop_."

"Draco, it is not my place to tell Potter how to treat his betrothed."

"I am not his betrothed!" Draco snapped. "Will everyone stop saying that?"

"Well, he seems to think so. As do I. Frankly, I don't really see the problem. Why don't you just incapacitate him like all the others if he displeases you so?"

"Because Potter refuses to be incapacitated!" Draco argued. "He doesn't play fair!"

"What you mean is he won't roll over and play dead for you."

"He stole my wand! And he won't give it back unless I go to dinner with him."

"The horror," Lucius drawled. "How will you ever survive such a calamity?"

Draco responded with a curious noise - somewhere between a shriek and a snarl - and started pacing. Lucius could hear his footsteps echoing as he ricocheted around the study. "He's insane!" he ranted fretfully. "A sodding lunatic! I'm going to report him. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll just call the Auror department and…"

"And say what exactly? That you're being harassed by the Saviour of all Wizardkind? Good luck fighting those odds."

Draco stopped pacing and slammed a fist on the desk. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded. "And how did you get Potter to agree to this? I  _know_  you did something."

Lucius abandoned the parchment and met his son's gaze steadily. "I merely did what any concerned father should have done. You are erratic and unhappy and you need a life partner to calm and balance you. As it happens, that man is Potter. He feels so, I feel so and in time, you will see that it's for the best."

Draco's grey eyes blazed. "Do I  _look_  calm and balanced?" he snarled. "I told you once and I'm telling you again - I will not go through with this charade!"

"You most certainly will. I am not opposed to cutting you off from your opulent lifestyle. Disinheriting you, if necessary."

Draco's jaw ticked, but the subtle threat held good. "So its blackmail then, is it?"

"I am merely trying to do what is best for you. For Merlin's sake, boy - you're not being married off this second. Just get to know the man."

"I do know him! He's an arrogant, conceited, obnoxious Gryffindor with a hero complex the size of Dover!"

"And you're a spoilt, petulant child throwing a temper tantrum in his father's study. We all have our flaws. Now go to dinner with your fiancé and leave me be."

He suppressed a wince as Draco emitted a howl that would have done a Mandrake proud and stormed off.

He could only hope that Potter knew just what he was getting into.

* * *

 

Andromeda smiled warmly as her nephew slinked into her room, looking distinctly put out. He didn't say a word. Instead he settled on the floor next to her and put his head on her lap, silently demanding a petting. The witch shook her head fondly and carded a hand through Draco's blond locks.

"Having a bad day, are we?"

"Horrible," Draco grumbled, curling against her like a cat. "Make Potter go away."

"Oh now, it can't be that bad."

"It is. He's awful and I hate him."

Andromeda couldn't help it. She laughed. "It's funny," she explained, petting her pouting nephew again. "That's exactly what your mother said when she first met your father."

Draco stared at her. "You're not serious," he blurted. " _Mother_  said that?"

"Well, she was very opposed to an engagement with a man she barely knew and Lucius wasn't exactly… what she had in mind. And then your father mentioned that he wanted… what was it? Ah yes, 'four strapping sons to ensure that the Malfoy name lived on' or some such nonsense."

Draco snickered as Andromeda grinned at the memory. "Your mother of course, reacted like any proper, pureblood lady of her upbringing would have."

"She hexed him?"

"I believe the younger crowd calls it a 'Bat Bogey' these days."

Draco burst into laughter. "She didn't! Merlin, she must have been  _pissed_."

"Oh, she was. Ranted and railed about it for days. She even vowed never to speak to 'that blight on humanity' again."

"Then what happened?"

"Well, eventually your father apologised and she calmed down. It took a lot of patience and persuasion on his part, not to mention three years of courting - practically unheard of in those days - but eventually, she said yes." She smiled softly. "I've never seen two people more in love."

Draco sighed and settled down in her lap again, uncharacteristically quiet. Andromeda's heart clenched. She knew how much he missed Narcissa… perhaps more than all of them.

"It's never perfect, Draco" she said softly. "But you have to open yourself to the possibility that things might work out."

"Not like this," he murmured softly. "And certainly not with… him."

"You're overthinking it, love. You'll be okay, I promise."

He grumbled something about sanctimonious, overbearing Gryffindors and she grinned mischievously. "Of course, no one ever said you shouldn't make him work for it."

Draco let a grin break out on his face. "You know I love you, right?"

"And I love you, Dragon" she replied, kissing his forehead. "Try not to destroy this one though, okay?"

"I never make promises I can't keep," Draco smirked.

Andromeda sighed. In her experience, neither did Harry Potter.

* * *

 

**Later that evening…**

It was quiet.  _Too_  quiet.

Harry frowned and approached the Manor cautiously. He had seen neither hide nor hair of his new fiancé ever since yesterday's catastrophe and he was sure Malfoy would try to get even. There had been no reply to his note, but passive aggressive was not Malfoy's style. Harry had expected at least a Howler or two.

The silent tension of it was getting to him. There was no way Malfoy was going to go easily.

"He has to be planning something," Harry muttered. "But what?"

"Well, for one thing there's that Devil's Snare patch you're standing in," a cheerful voice pointed out. Harry yelped as he realized that a green tendril was in fact wrapping itself around his leg. Zabini stepped out of the shadows and cast a quick  _Incendio_. The plant retreated and Harry scowled at the grinning Italian.

"Must you be  _everywhere_?" he demanded.

Zabini shrugged. "Well, I figured you'd need a little help getting through Phase One on your first try. Of course, if you'd rather tackle the grand piano hanging precariously from the ceiling, the Venomous Tentacula  _and_  the vampire bats on your own…"

Harry frowned. "He's got vampire bats?"

"Did I mention there's also a Phase Two and Three?" Zabini grinned. "He  _really_  doesn't like you."

Harry groaned. "Must he always be so dramatic? I'm not even inside yet."

"I think he plans to keep it that way," Zabini snickered.

"Oh you're funny," Harry snapped, stomping over to sulk under a tree. Zabini cocked his head curiously and followed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Can I stop you?"

"Why are you putting yourself through this? I mean, I get that the World Cup is important and Merlin help me, it'll be fun to have a little competition if you lot can actually make it through the semi-finals this time…"

Harry froze. "You know about…?"

"It was my idea," Zabini smirked. "I didn't think you'd go for it though. So again I ask Potter, is it worth the hassle?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. "I think so. Plus it makes Malfoy go spare so that's a bonus."

Zabini laughed. "Potter, a strong breeze makes him go spare. And you're going to commit to spending the rest of your life with that. Exactly what is your plan?"

Harry clenched his fists. Honestly, it was questions like this that unnerved him. He couldn't explain any of it. The way Malfoy was suddenly in his dreams and fantasies, the way his blood flared at the sight of him, the reason he felt alive around him… it was all rather disorienting. And he couldn't say it out loud… especially not to Zabini. Harry shook his head firmly. Besides, it was all just nonsense. Obviously, all he needed was to shag Malfoy silly and get him out of his system. Then he could concentrate on important things again. There, internal crisis handled. He turned to address the Slytherin once again.

"My plan is to beat your ass and win that damn Cup."

"I see," Zabini smirked. "Well, no one can fault you for commitment to the cause, Potter. But as official best friend and president of the Hurt My Malfoy And I'll Kill You Committee it's my duty to inform you - hurt my Malfoy and I'll kill you."

"Hurt  _him_?" Harry snapped. "I'm not the one waylaying passers-by with Devil Snare traps! Hell, he won't even let me in the damn door."

"Oh stop being a baby, Potter. All you have to do is scale the wall and get in through that window right there. A simple  _Levicorpus_  should do it. I'd recommend Apparating but you might end up in Lucius' bedroom. Trust me; he gets  _very_  cranky when that happens."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. "Anything else I need to not know about ever?" Zabini shook his head. "Thank Merlin," Harry muttered. "Think you can do a  _Levicorpus_ without dropping me on my arse?"

He turned around, but halted as a firm hand gripped his shoulder. "I mean it, Potter," Zabini said quietly. "If he ever finds out about your little… arrangement with Lucius, Draco will be the least of your problems. It's me you'll have to worry about."

"Understood," Harry replied as sincerely as possible. "I'll play ball, Zabini. You've got nothing to worry about. Now will you please fly me up this window so I can meet my fiancé?"

"I swear this place just keeps getting weirder and weirder," Zabini muttered, pulling out his wand. Harry laughed as his feet lifted off the ground.

* * *

 

Draco jumped as he heard the noise. It sounded like something was scrabbling outside his…window? The blond's eyes widened and immediately darted towards the clock.

_7:15_

No. Oh Merlin no. He couldn't have gotten past the… fucking hell; it had taken him hours to get those traps ready! The next second two hands appeared out of nowhere at the window and were immediately joined by an atrociously familiar mop of hair.

Draco made a sound like a strangled cat and backed away at once.

"Sorry I'm late, lovely," Potter grinned as if this were an everyday occurrence. "Got caught up with your pet plant. I think he likes me." He pulled himself up and slipped in the window with casual grace.

"Nice room," he added, looking around. "Can't say I'm crazy about all the green though. Oh well, plenty of time to redecorate when we're married…"

Draco gaped, momentarily unable to form a coherent sentence. "You… but… how?"

"Now, now," Potter grinned predatorily. "You didn't think a little foliage would keep me from my beautiful boyfriend, did you? And if I may say so…" His eyes travelled down Draco's body with ill-concealed interest. "It was completely worth it."

The blond swallowed and backed away. He had never intended for Potter to make it this far. Those traps were impregnable! And yet, here he was… without so much as a scratch on him. _Merlin_ , Draco hated him! "You… you're leaving right now," he stammered out.

Potter's eyes darkened. "I really don't think so. I've played your little games and I've put up with a lot to come see you tonight. We've done it your way, Malfoy. Now it's my turn. You're going to come out with me and have a nice dinner or I swear to Merlin, I'll make you. Your call."

"No!" Draco screamed, somewhat hysterically. He was completely panic stricken. "I told you I won't go and I meant it! You're not going to make me!" Potter's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened with stubborn determination. He took a step towards the frantic blond at which point, Draco completely lost it. He bolted.

"Damn it!" Potter snarled, giving chase. Draco practically flew towards the door, trying to wrench it open. Potter's hand was around his waist in an instant and he was yanked back roughly. "You are not running from me again," he growled.

Draco struggled like a maniac, trying to twist out of the iron grip but Potter's hold was too strong. He was manoeuvred around roughly and Potter's hands planted themselves around his slim waist. Draco snapped and snarled, howling and cursing and screaming bloody murder until…

**"Enough!"**

The shout rang out, echoing across the room. Draco ceased his struggling, momentarily shocked. Emerald green eyes blazed at him, making him feel distinctly uncomfortable. Draco cringed. Damn, Potter was angry. He was glaring down at him - being at least a head taller than Draco (when had  _that_  happened?) - and his jaw was clenched tight. It was also broad and slightly dark with stubble and… and… NO! This could not happen again! Particularly when Potter looked like he wanted to strangle him.

"You spoilt, cossetted  **brat!** " Potter snarled. "You will stop acting like a nightmare this second or there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

Draco flinched, but scowled stubbornly. Potter growled and shook him, almost violently. "I asked you a question," he hissed. Draco flinched as Potter's hands tightened around his waist. It wasn't painful… but there was no doubt that Potter was strong. And pissed off.

"Yes," he gritted out reluctantly.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I understand!" Draco snapped. He  _hated_  this!

"Good," Potter praised, his tone suddenly soothing. Draco scowled and bit down the urge to say something scathing. The man was a maniac. It would be prudent not to antagonize him more than necessary. He seemed satisfied for now. The hands around his waist shifted to his back, tracing soothing patterns against his tense muscles. Draco's breath hitched and his eyes widened. Potter smirked.

"Breathe, gorgeous" he whispered. "We're just getting to know each other, that's all."

Draco muttered something about not  _wanting_  to get to know Potter but kept still. The adamant prat shifted closer and traced his shoulders soothingly. His fingers traced Draco's neck, hovering at the pulse point for a moment before slowly tracing their way up his face. The blond blinked in surprise and stiffened but Potter shushed him gently, still mapping his features under his calloused fingers. Against his will, Draco found himself relaxing into the touch. It felt… well, not  _terrible_ …

"So pretty," Potter murmured speculatively. "It's a shame you've got such a mouth on you." His finger dipped to trace Draco's lips and the blond shivered, parting them ever so slightly. "Then again," Potter husked. "Maybe it's not all bad. Silver lining and all that…"

Draco hummed and closed his eyes. Potter's voice was low and husky and his fingers were warm against his heated skin and it wasn't so bad really… odd perhaps, but not…

Suddenly Potter's arms tightened around him and Draco gasped as he felt the all too familiar tug of apparition. The bastard had tricked him **.**

DAMN IT!


	9. The Agitation of Draco Malfoy

Draco was still cursing fluently when they were on solid ground again.

"You lying, manipulative bastard! Let **GO!** "

He flung Potter off, glaring daggers at the grinning idiot. The Gryffindor chuckled and dusted off his jacket easily. "Well, that was fun," he said. "To tell the truth, I figured you'd put up more of a fight. Turns out a little action is all I need to bring out your cooperative side."

Draco flushed and clenched his fists. Embarrassment washed over him in waves as he realized that Potter wasn't lying. It was all true. At some point, he  _had_  been willing to do what Potter wanted and… why? Just because the prat's hands had been all over him? Good Lord, what was  _wrong_  with him?

Potter was still grinning and Draco wasn't sure he could take it anymore. He turned on his heel and started walking away.

"Oh come on! Don't be like that."

 _Ignore him_ , he told himself firmly.  _Just keep walking_.

"Malfoy! Wait up!" The prat was running now to keep up with him. Draco huffed and quickened his footsteps. Potter kept pace with him easily. Damn his long legs!

"Seriously? The silent treatment?" The idiot actually had the gall to protest.

"Go away," Draco muttered mutinously.

"At least tell me where you're going."

"Home!" Draco snapped.

"You plan to walk home from Paris?"

Draco screeched to a halt and turned to goggle at his companion. "Paris?" he echoed incredulously. "You… you Apparated us to… we're in  _Paris_?"

"Well it's definitely not Hogsmeade, is it?"

Draco took a sharp breath and stopped to take a good look around. From the alley he was standing in, he could see the busy streets and soft lights of the city. Elegant, old buildings sprawled out on all sides, competing with modern skyscrapers and blaring traffic. In the distance the Eiffel Tower shimmered, spiralling majestically over the city.

Oh. My.  _God_.

"France?" Draco nearly choked, turning on Potter. "You Apparated us into another country? Are you  _insane_?"

Potter let out a long suffering sigh. "What's the world coming to when a man is called insane for taking his fiancé to Paris?"

Draco suppressed the urge to  _scream_. "First of all, you kidnapped me. Second of all,  **I am not your fucking fiancé!** "

Two women stopped in their tracks to stare at them and then scurried off.

"I do so love your spirit, darling," Potter cooed, undeterred. "I feel like the luckiest man in the world."

Draco gave up. It was hopeless. He was stuck with a madman over a thousand miles from home and frankly, he was exhausted. Potter was  _impossible_  and screaming at him only made it worse. Maybe… maybe compromise would work. It was worth a try. "If… if I say I'm your fiancé will you stop acting like a crazy person?" he asked tentatively.

"Well we won't know until you do, will we honey?"

Draco groaned and scrubbed his face wearily. "Fine, Potter. You win. I'm your fiancé. Happy?" This seemed to happen a lot these days…

"Well of course I am, you silly blond thing you," Potter chuckled. "Now hurry up. Dinner awaits us." He turned away and sauntered off merrily, leaving Draco gaping behind him. The young blond went over his meagre list of options. There was nothing he wanted more than to hex the very  _skin_  off Potter. Unfortunately the wanker still had his wand. Maybe, he should try walking back… it was only a few thousand kilometres…

"Draco? I'm not getting any younger, darling."

There was nothing for it. Draco slumped his shoulders in defeat and trudged behind Potter. _Get this over with as soon as possible_ , he told himself firmly.  _And try… try not to go completely mental in the meantime_.

* * *

 

Draco stabbed fitfully at his fish and tried not to sulk. In light of his changed circumstances, he had adopted a strategy of mutinous silence and constant pouting, pointedly ignoring everything that Potter said. It hadn't deterred the man in the slightest.

Potter went about his evening with a blithe confidence, smiling and chatting with the waiter, somehow managing to select the right wine  _and_  ordering for both of them. Draco's chagrin at the high handedness was overshadowed by his surprise at the fact that Potter spoke fluent French.

Potter must have noticed his shocked expression because he shrugged and grinned. "We did some intel in France during the War. I was stuck here for the better part of a year. Turns out when you've got nothing to do in a strange city, you pick up a few things."

Draco nodded stiffly. He really didn't want to talk about the War. His own involvement had been limited but it still rankled. His mind flitted with memories of the Dark Lord and he shuddered. His mother had shipped him off to a safe house the second she had a chance and he had spent three, dark and terrifying months in Italy with Blaise, waiting for the odd owl, wondering if their families were alive or dead. It had been the worst time of his life and now, it just stung that while he had been hiding away like a coward, Potter had tackled the monster head on and given them their lives back. The Dark Lord… Draco shuddered again.

He started as he felt a firm hand on his shoulder and stared into concerned, green eyes. "I'm glad it's over too," Potter told him sincerely. Draco nodded again and shrugged off his hand. He didn't want contact right now… especially with Potter.

Mercifully, Potter seemed to understand and backed off. He poured another glass of wine, which Draco accepted grudgingly and smiled in that annoying, disarming way of his. "Tell me about yourself," he ordered. "What do you do?"

"I'm studying Potions," Draco answered. He may as well answer Potter's asinine questions if it would get him home sooner. "I was hoping to get my Masters this year."

"But?" Potter frowned.

"But I wasn't selected for the internship," Draco replied bitterly. "Limited seats." What that meant of course, was that someone with his Dark Arts background shouldn't even have bothered to apply. But Draco had been adamant. He knew he had a perfect NEWT score for the program. He had hoped that that would even out the odds for him. Apparently not.

Potter just nodded speculatively. "Well, you'll manage," he said finally. "You were certainly talented, from what I remember."

"Can we not talk about this?" Draco snapped. This whole conversation was messing with his head. He did not want to share his long list of personal failures with Potter. This whole thing was reaching new levels of ridiculous.

"Of course," Potter replied easily. "Let's talk about us instead."

Draco's eyes narrowed warningly. "Us?"

"Well, we need to discuss our future together, don't we? Wedding dates, buying a house, four or five kids… all that jazz."

"Potter, for the love of Merlin! We are not getting…  _five_  kids?"

"And a crup in the yard, unless you're a cat person. You look like a cat person."

Draco whimpered and rubbed his temples. He was developing a migraine, he just  _knew_  it. And he was really too tired to fight anymore. "Why are you doing this, Potter?" he asked wearily.

"Doing what?" Potter asked innocently.

"This!" Draco ranted, not even caring that a few people were staring at them now. It was too much. "All of it! With the dinner and the courting and the crazy! What could you possibly be getting out of this? I'm trying and trying to figure it out but I can't! And I  _know_  you're up to something! Don't you dare tell me you're not! Merlin as my witness Potter, I will find out and I will make you suffer for this incessant harassment if it's the last thing I…  **mmmph!** "

In hindsight, he should have noticed Potter slowly and steadily sidling over to his side of the table. But Draco was far too caught up in his rant to give a damn. So when Potter's hand gripped the back of his neck, tugging him forward and their lips crashed together, he was somewhat surprised. So surprised in fact, that he gasped and Potter - bastard that he was - took due advantage and slipped his tongue in his mouth. Draco snarled in frustration and reached for a fork, determined to stab the Gryffindor to within an inch of his life. Potter was prepared and grabbed hold of his wrists, pinning them together as he ravaged his mouth senselessly. Draco struggled petulantly for all of ten seconds, before coming to the conclusion that it was futile. Defeated, he relaxed his tense body and surrendered, giving Potter free rein to do as he pleased. The Gryffindor smirked against his lips, recognizing his victory and plied Draco with lips and teeth and tongue, exploring every inch of his new found territory with enthusiasm. It seemed to go on for hours, with him hauled up in Potter's arms like a ragdoll as the man attempted to snog the very life force out of him. Finally, the need for oxygen took over and Draco whimpered in feeble protest. Potter released him, chuckling when a rather light headed Draco slumped against him.

"Any more questions?" the prat asked smugly.

"A simple  _I find you attractive_  would have done the job, Potter," the blond grumbled. Potter laughed and carded a hand through his hair, and he debated whether or not to push him away. What was the point? So he stayed where he was as Potter cleared the cheque and thanked their waiter. He didn't even protest when the man hauled him up again and back out on the street or when they Apparated back to Malfoy Manor. They landed on solid ground again with Draco still tucked firmly in the crook of Potter's arms.

 _Then_  he protested.

He huffed and pushed Potter away at once, scowling as the arrogant git stumbled a bit and righted himself, still grinning. "Delightful" he teased lightly, green eyes sparkling merrily. "And to think, I was worried that you'd give me a hard time." Draco flushed and looked away. This would have been so much easier if Potter had the basic courtesy to be ugly as fuck. Unreasonable git…

"You had your fun," he scowled belligerently. "Now go away."

"Alright," Potter grinned, taking his waist and pulling him closer. "But I have something for you first."

Draco's eyes widened as that damn kiss flashed through his mind again. There was no way he was reliving that again. "I don't want it," he snapped, turning his head away mulishly. "Leave, Potter."

"No," Potter husked, trailing a hand down his cheek again. "I want you to have this."

Draco faltered, his skin flaring at the seemingly innocent touch. "P-potter…"

"Hush, beautiful," Potter whispered. "You want this, I swear."

"N-no," Draco protested adamantly. Potter was so close now. The woodsy scent of pine drifted over Draco and he swallowed. Potter's lips hovered over his and despite himself, Draco whimpered.

"Want it now?" Potter whispered. Draco staggered like a pile of bricks.

"Yes," he managed, closing his eyes. Potter tilted his head up with a gentle hand and Draco hummed and parted his lips. Potter's mouth ghosted over his tantalisingly. And then Draco  _felt_ those lips stretch in an amused grin. His eyes fluttered open in surprise as he felt something long and thin slipping into his trouser pocket. What the…?

"Your wand," Potter chuckled, pulling back abruptly. "I figured you'd want it back." The git favoured him with a sweet kiss on the cheek and removed his hands, backing away smoothly. Draco tried not to whine at the sudden loss. He was so stunned that all he could do was stare as Potter turned his back on him and walked away.

"I'll be in touch, beautiful," he called back. "Sleep well."

And then he was gone. Draco slumped against the Manor gates trying and failing to understand  _how_  his life had culminated to this single point of madness. There were no answers in the stillness of the night. Finally, he gave in to his exhaustion and trudged up to bed.

_So much for not going completely mental…_


	10. The Dastardly Deed of Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s) for dub con and somewhat forced sexual activity in this chapter. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

"Malcolm, Bludger at three o'clock! Take a dive!"

"Thanks, Potter!"

Harry grinned as his teammate executed a perfectly smooth dive, avoiding the Bludger by a hair. These new brooms were  _fantastic_. Heidi swooped alongside him, laughing with the pure joy of possessing a Firebolt 3000 that wasn't trying to throw her off. "Now  _that's_  quality," she grinned, spinning around him giddily. Harry laughed. The team was in high spirits. Practice was a different story now, thanks to their new equipment. He just hoped they could get to some actual practice in before the season started again.

He spotted a tell-tale glint at the far side of the pitch and took off at once. The Snitch hummed and hovered just out of reach and then as if spotting him, took off at the speed of light. Harry gave chase at once, stretching his hand out as he pursued his elusive quarry at break neck speed. The Snitch took a sharp right and he nearly swerved, but the broom held good and he snapped into action again. The Snitch fluttered indecisively for a second and that's all he needed. Harry whooped triumphantly as his fingers closed around the little golden ball.

"Time!" Oliver yelled from the goal posts. "Thirty four minutes! Not bad, people!"

Harry swooped to the ground and landed smoothly, his fist still clenched around the fluttering Snitch. "Got you, beautiful," he grinned. A sudden flash of silver eyes and soft, full lips assaulted his memory, catching him off guard. Harry blinked in surprise. Malfoy again… the git seemed to have permanently slithered his way into Harry's every waking moment.

It had been a few days since his last 'date' with the blond. Ever since, visions of Malfoy had haunted him. His lithe, slender body, the way he felt pressed up against Harry, how he had looked when he had thought Harry was about to kiss him… the Seeker grinned. It had been a while since he'd had the chance to rile Malfoy up. It was just as much fun as he remembered.

Too much fun, perhaps.

Harry let go of the Snitch, watching it buzz away. Malfoy  _was_  beautiful - the ultimate prize. But that didn't mean that he could lose focus. This was a deal and he had every intention of upholding his side of the bargain. But falling for the prat wasn't part of it, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to.

A familiar flash of scarlet caught his attention suddenly and Harry grinned as he jogged down the pitch over to the stands. "Hey, pretty girl," he greeted, kissing the witch on the cheek.

"Excuse me?" Ginny retorted, flicking her ever present cigarette. "Do I know you, stranger?"

"Very funny," Harry snorted, sitting next to her. "I told you I was going to be busy for a while."

"You may have mentioned," she replied, releasing a gentle spire of smoke in his general direction. "Call me crazy but as official best friend and honorary fag hag, I expect a little more notice than ' _Won't be around for a while. Stay golden. PS: New bartender at the Leaky - he's hot._ '"

"Fag hag?" Harry repeated dryly.

"You deserved it. Now, care to tell me where you've been?"

"Around," Harry replied vaguely. "Practice and… other stuff."

Ginny grinned knowingly. "Does 'other stuff' have a name?"

"Damn, you're good."

"I knew it!" Ginny crowed. "So who is he? Anyone I know?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're not shacking up with Justin again, are you?"

"No!" Harry blurted at once. Honestly, even he shuddered slightly at the thought…

"Good," Ginny sniffed. "Anyone's better than that mess."

"I'm glad you think so," Harry smirked. "Just remember that sentiment when you meet my boyfriend, okay?"

" _Boyfriend?_ " Ginny squeaked in surprise. "You work fast."

"It just… sort of happened," Harry shrugged, rubbing his neck awkwardly. He had never been good at lying to her. Apparently Ginny thought so too. The redhead's eyes narrowed again, taking on a calculative look. "What aren't you telling me?" she demanded.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yeah," Ginny snorted. "Pull the other one, Harry. Look, I'm not going to go all Hermione on you and tell you how to live your life. But just do a girl a favour and promise me not to do anything stupid, okay?"

"Yes, mum."

"Prat," she giggled, slapping him playfully on the head. "Up for a quick one at the Leaky? I have a sudden craving for bartender on the rocks."

Harry thought about it for a moment, and then shook his head. "Can't," he offered regretfully. "I have to be somewhere tonight."

Ginny smirked. "Other stuff?"

Harry chuckled and nodded, standing up to see her out. "Soon, Harry," she reminded him as they walked over to the nearest Apparition point.

"I promise."

Ginny nodded. " _Nice_  broom, by the way." And with one sharp crack, she was gone.

Harry stared at the spot she'd been standing in for a while. He hadn't really planned to see anyone tonight, but all of a sudden the thought of Malfoy's company was appealing. Damn, there really was no escaping the git, was there?

Shaking his head, Harry Apparated to his flat.

He only hoped that Malfoy was having as hard a time of this as he was.

* * *

 

Draco was pouting when the owl arrived.

As it turned out, Potter had the capacity to annoy him even when he was nowhere in sight. It had been four days since that disaster of a… whatever it was - Draco refused to term it as a _date_  - and Potter hadn't tried to contact him since. Not that Draco wanted him to. It would just be nice to know that the bastard hadn't snogged him and then fallen off the face of the earth.

It was hard to explain why he was so angry. Every time, he tried to rant about the whole Potter taking him to Paris and kissing him and then  _not_  kissing him fiasco, Andromeda merely gushed about how romantic it all sounded and Father looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. Blaise in true form, proved to be as useless as ever and would either laugh or tell him to just owl Potter already.

Draco had no intention of doing anything of the sort. No thank you. If Potter had decided that he wasn't worth the bother anymore that was fine with him! He was certainly not pouting over the fact! No way. As far as Draco was concerned, Potter could just go to…

The owl landed gracefully at his desk and hooted loudly, startling him. Draco abandoned his book and hurried over, relieving the bird of the parcel. A note was attached to it and he read it quickly ( _not_  eagerly).

_Hey lovely,_

_I saw these and thought about you. Figured you could use some help expanding your horizons. Wear them for me tonight? I'll pick you up at 8._

_H_

_PS: Don't make me abduct you again. Much as I love indulging your naughty little fantasies, I'm pretty sure it'll freak your father out._

Draco gnashed his teeth and picked up the parcel, fully intending to  _Incendio_  it. Another note slipped out of it and he snatched it up.

_PPS: Don't even think about. I'll glue them on you if I have to._

Bastard.

He would, too.

Draco fed the owl a treat and watched it fly away before turning his attention to the parcel. He tore at the paper, unwrapping it efficiently and taking out the simple set of clothes. Thank Merlin. He'd half expected Potter to send lingerie… the thought made his cheeks flush and he dismissed it hurriedly, turning his attention to the present.

He recognized the denim trousers. Theo used to hide his stash of muggle magazines under his bed. Draco had spent many a night gleefully roving through pictures of male models dressed in jeans and not much else. Apparently, Potter wanted to see  _him_  like that. The thought made him smirk.

The shirt was a bit more of a revelation. A simple button down made of black silk with a silver dragon embroidered on the back. It would fit like a glove. Not to mention the colour would set off his pale skin perfectly… it was beautiful. No wonder Potter wanted him to wear it.

Draco chuckled and flicked it away carelessly. So Potter wanted to play, did he? Well, the prat may have one over him but there was no way he was going to tell Draco how to dress. Humming to himself, the blond rummaged through his closet. He selected a simple charcoal grey shirt that brought out his eyes. This would do. Potter could just wait for him to wear the black one,  _if_  he ever decided to. He eyed the jeans speculatively. He supposed he could wear them. They would certainly look fantastic on him. No harm in throwing Potter a bone, right?

Draco chuckled and sauntered off to the bathroom to preen.

This time, he was ready for Potter.

* * *

 

Harry flooed into Malfoy Manor at five past eight, immediately finding himself in the company of Lucius Malfoy and his graceful companion. He smiled as he recognized the regal witch at once - Andromeda Tonks nee Black. Apparently, she lived here now. Suddenly, he was thankful that he'd thought ahead and brought some flowers just in case.

"Mrs Tonks," he greeted her warmly. "It's been too long. And how are you, Lucius?"

Lucius nodded in greeting, leaving the pleasantries to Andromeda. "Mr Potter," she smiled, taking his hand. "It's wonderful to see you again. What a lovely arrangement."

"For you, of course," Harry grinned, presenting them to her with flourish. She laughed and accepted. "How charming. I confess it's been a while since I've received flowers."

"Shame, that" Harry smiled. He had always felt warmly towards Andromeda, despite her discomfiting resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange. "I'll make it a point to send a dozen roses across every day."

"That won't be necessary, Potter," Lucius cut in stiffly. Harry raised an eyebrow as he noticed the tic in the older man's jaw. Lucius shifted subtly so that he was standing just a little closer to the witch, giving Harry what looked a lot like a warning glare.

Ah.

The younger man nodded and disengaged Andromeda gently, taking a measured step back to ensure a respectful distance. He suppressed a grin as Lucius visibly relaxed.

"I don't suppose Draco plans to come downstairs anytime soon?" he asked, changing the subject.

"He'll be here soon, I'm sure" Andromeda explained. "He's been expecting you, of course."

"More like dreading," Lucius muttered.

"Lucius!"

Harry grinned. "Things have been a little tense. But I'll make sure he has fun tonight."

"Not too much fun, Potter," Lucius drawled. "We wouldn't want you out of commission for the Canons, would we?"

Harry smirked, catching the subtle warning. "I promise to bring your son home unscathed, Lucius. Gryffindor's honour."

Lucius nodded stiffly. "Indeed. Which reminds me, Potter - how would you feel about a little one-on-one training with a former Falmouth Falcons seeker? A little extra practice for the Cup would certainly not go amiss."

"That would be brilliant. Thank you," Harry offered with a discreet smirk.

"A pleasure, Mr Potter," Lucius replied.

Andromeda watched the exchange, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What…" she began, just as a house elf scurried in to interrupt them.

"Young Master Malfoy is being here, Mr Potter," he announced, taking off again. Moments later, a pair of footsteps thudded across the plush carpeting and Harry turned around.

"Draco," Lucius greeted smoothly. "How nice of you to join us."

* * *

 

"Thank you, Father," Draco greeted stiffly. "Evening, Aunt Andromeda."

"Hello, Dragon," she smiled, giving him a light hug. Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably as he turned to Potter. The man was watching him intently. Green eyes roamed his thin frame in interest and Draco tugged consciously at the hem of his grey shirt. He raised his chin defiantly, silently daring Potter to comment on his choice of wardrobe. The taller man raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Instead he stepped forward and took Draco's hand with easy confidence. "You look amazing," he murmured, placing a gentle kiss to Draco's wrist. The blond flushed and disengaged quickly, trying to ignore the tingling of Potter's lips against his skin.

"Thank you," he all but mumbled. Andromeda smiled and Lucius rolled his eyes.

"I presume you'll be back at an appropriate time?" he drawled.

"I am not twelve, Father. I don't have a curfew," Draco gritted. That's all he needed, being coddled like a child in front of Potter. He tamped down his embarrassment and scowled at the man, who looked far too amused for his own good. But to his credit, Potter stepped up again and put a courteous arm around his waist. "I'll take care of him, Lucius. He's important to me too, you know."

Draco blinked in surprise but Lucius was already nodding and waving them off. The next thing he knew, Potter was steering him out the door and towards the gate.

"So Dragon," Potter grinned. "Ever been to Muggle London before?"

"Don't call me that," Draco snapped, more out of habit than anything.

"Special nickname?" Potter teased. He raised his arms in surrender as Draco continued to glower. "Okay, okay. Relax. I'd like at least a ten minute head start before you start screaming at me again."

Draco huffed but allowed himself to be shepherded over to the Manor's apparition point. It was only then that he realized what Potter had said. "We're going to Muggle London?" he asked uneasily.

"And what did you think I meant when I said we were going to broaden your horizons?" Potter asked with an amused smirk. "Why, you naughty little minx…"

"Nothing like that!" Draco protested, going scarlet  _again_. "I just didn't expect… do we really have to go to Muggle London?" His sheltered upbringing hadn't exactly encouraged excursions to muggle areas, and the idea of being dead centre in their midst unnerved him.

Potter trailed a comforting hand through his hair, effectively mussing it up. "I'll be right next to you the whole time," he whispered in Draco's ear. "You're safe with me, okay?"

"Okay," Draco murmured, resolutely telling himself that the strange warm feeling in his chest was  _not_  comfort. Nevertheless, when Potter to herd him closer, Draco inhaled sharply and gripped the sleeve of his shirt tighter than necessary. Then they were Apparating, right in the heart of London.

* * *

 

The movie theatre thing was Draco's favourite. Potter had taken him all over London in a few hours and yes, the streets were thronging with muggles but as it turned out they were happy enough to leave him alone. A few had tried to sell him things - most of them shiny - but Potter had waved them off. Draco pouted for a while, mentally resolving to come back later. Not everything had been spectacular though. Fish and chips for example, were bland and tasteless - no matter what Potter said - and the traffic scared him. Potter stayed by his side dutifully, occasionally putting an arm around his shoulders for support. Draco didn't mind that as much as he should have.

Now they were watching something called a 'movie' on a  _huge_  screen. The room they were in was dark and there weren't many people. Potter explained that that was because this movie had been running for a while now so less people were likely to show up. Draco didn't understand that. If he had a choice, he'd come back every day just for the popcorn.

He watched the screen, enraptured. Who would have thought that a story about some Muggle king who stuttered could be so compelling? Potter had tried (unsuccessfully) to give him a little background on the history, but Draco hadn't bothered to listen. He understood royal politics and conspiracies just fine, thank you.

So there he was, munching on popcorn and staring at the screen when Potter shifted subtly next to him. He put his arm around Draco's shoulders and pulled him closer. The blond huffed petulantly but chose to ignore Potter. He was watching the movie, for Merlin's sake.

"Do you have any idea how cute you look right now?" Potter whispered in his ear. "All enchanted and wide eyed. Do you know what it makes me want to do to you?"

Draco inhaled sharply. "Stop it," he whispered, trying to shrug Potter off. "Someone will hear you."

The Gryffindor chuckled. "Adorable," he murmured, his lips brushing teasingly against Draco's ear.

"Potter,  _stop_ ," he hissed, trying to twist away. There wasn't much room and he didn't dare get up for fear of causing a scene. Muggles were still unfamiliar territory to him.

"Why?" Potter pressed. "Feeling shy? Afraid someone will see us? Maybe hear me tell you about the dirty, depraved things I want to do to you right now?"

Draco's world spun at Potter's whispered words. His breathing hitched and he gripped the arms of his chair. "P-potter," he whispered, as the Gryffindor flicked a tongue out to taste his skin. Draco suppressed a squeak. Potter pressed his advantage ruthlessly. " _Incarcerous_ ," he whispered.

Draco gasped as ropes shot out of nowhere around his wrists, tethering him to the chair. In moments, he was completely tied down and… at Potter's mercy. Oh  _God_.

That thought should not be making him hard!

"Now try to keep quiet, yeah?" Potter murmured, making quick work of his buttons. His hand traced Draco's bare chest lazily. "We don't want any of the nice muggles to hear us, do we?"

"Potter, don't!" Draco whimpered. Potter grinned and tweaked his nipple in response, making Draco squeak again.

"And why should I listen to you, hmm?" Potter asked, twisting the little bud with his thumb. His hand travelled down Draco's chest, resting at the hem of his jeans. He undid the zipper easily, palming Draco's raging cock through his boxers. Draco gasped and threw his head back as Potter thumbed his slit expertly. The Gryffindor kept talking, all the while continuing his ruthless ministrations. "You deliberately ignore everything I say. I specifically asked you to wear the black shirt for me, didn't I?" He grinned as Draco panted and squirmed. "Keep it down, love. I really don't want us to be interrupted."

"Potter, please…"

"Call me Harry and perhaps I'll think about indulging you."

Draco gnashed his teeth in frustration. How the hell did Potter  _get_  him into these situations? How had he managed seven years in Gryffindor - his tactics had Slytherin written all over them! Potter raked his nails down Draco's chest and the blond just about managed not to thrash about like a fish out of water. He was aching by now and he wasn't sure he could last. "Fine," he gasped. "Fine, Harry. Whatever you want, okay? Just… please…"

"Again," he ordered gruffly.

" _Harry_ ," Draco whimpered.

"Lovely," Potter murmured approvingly. "I think you'll be calling me Harry a lot more from now on, don't you Draco?" The blond mumbled resentfully and the Gryffindor pumped his cock harder.

"Yessss!" Draco hissed frantically, jerking against his bonds. "I'll call you Harry. I will, I swear!"

"That's better," Harry grinned, pumping him faster now. "And if I pick out something for you to wear, are you going to disobey me again?"

"No!" Draco whined. "I won't! I won't, Harry!"

"I know, gorgeous," Harry whispered. "Do you want to come now?"

Draco nodded frantically, eyes wide and lips unmoving. Harry bent down to kiss him and Draco groaned around his tongue. Harry indulged himself with a lazy snog as he pumped Draco faster and harder. The blond jerked and mewled as Harry nipped at his lips in warning. "Come for me, Dragon," he commanded softly. Draco jerked his hips and climaxed with a low moan that Harry immediately swallowed with his lips. He kept his mouth against Draco's as the blond panted and shuddered, riding out the last of his orgasm. Harry broke away as soon as he was sure that Draco was coherent again. The blond stared at him with wide eyes, completely in shock. Harry couldn't resist kissing him again.

"That," he smirked "was spectacular." He removed the  _Incarcerous_  and cast a quick cleaning charm on the mortified blond, pulling him close again. "I can't wait to do that to you every night."

Draco's fragile hold on his self-control snapped. Every fibre in his being flared with absolute rage and hatred for the smug bastard sitting next to him. He pushed Potter away, righted himself as quickly as he could and stood up abruptly. Potter got up as well, clearly intending to subdue him at once.

Draco couldn't handle it. He drew back and  _slapped_  the arsehole straight across the face. The sound echoed in the hall and the few people around them gasped and stared unabashedly. Draco didn't give a damn. With one last sneer at Potter, he stormed out of the building.


	11. The Escape from the Leaky Cauldron

"Fuck!" Harry swore as he raced out behind the blond. Draco was walking faster now, clearly intending to put as much distance between them as possible. Harry winced as his cheek throbbed. _Fuck_ , the little chit had an arm on him! He hadn't meant to get so carried away. Draco had just looked so damn pretty, and it was dark and… damn it! Now he had a furious fiancé on his hands, running headfirst into god knows what and it was pretty much his fault. He had to stop him before he got himself into any trouble.

"Draco! Damn it, wait up!"

The blond stiffened for a second and then took off running. Harry groaned and gave chase, catching up easily. He grabbed hold of Draco and twisted him around, wrapping his arms around him at once. "It seems all I do these days is chase you down," he quipped dryly.

"Let me go!" Draco snarled, struggling furiously. "You obnoxious, arrogant bastard! Leave me  **alone**!" He managed to throw Harry off and pushed him away, glaring daggers at him. Harry winced as he noted the wetness of his eyes and the slight tremble of his frame. Damn, he really  _was_  a bastard. Belatedly, he took a step towards Draco, hoping to offer some form of comfort but the blond was implacable.

"I have a wand this time, Potter!" he snarled, backing away defensively. "I  _will_  hex you if you touch me, I mean it!"

"We can't do magic in front of muggles, remember?" Harry said reasonably.

" **Didn't stop you, did it?** " Draco howled, pushing at him again. Harry grabbed hold of his wrist, keeping a gentle but firm hold on his fuming fiancé.

"I'm sorry," he said, striving for sincerity. Honestly, he was not sorry at all. Draco had looked bloody gorgeous arching in his hands and Harry would do it again in a heartbeat. However, that was _not_  what Draco needed to hear right now. "I got carried away," he attempted . "I did, I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have… well…"

"Molested me in public?" Draco contributed shrilly. "Groped me in a room full of strangers? Completely  _mortified_  me?!"

"Well when you put it like that, it just sounds mean."

Draco snarled and stomped away, prompting Harry to chase him down again. He pulled the blond back. "At least let me take you home," he pleaded. It was close to begging, but he supposed he deserved to grovel a bit. Besides, there was no way he could let Draco loose on the general public in his current state of mind.

The blond glowered in silence for a few minutes. "Diagon Alley," he snapped finally. "You take me to Diagon Alley and then we're going our separate ways. This farce is over, do you understand?"

"Can't we just…" Harry began, trailing off at Draco's death glare. "Fine," he relented. "Diagon Alley and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

"Fine," Draco muttered, starting to walk away. Harry joined him and they walked in awkward silence. Draco stalked down the street like an angry cat and Harry despaired. There would be no talking to him like this. Maybe he could call in a few days and smooth things over. But somehow he doubted it.

They reached the Alley's entrance way too soon for Harry.

"You know the drill, Potter," Draco said, stepping aside. Harry sighed and tapped at the three bricks reluctantly, revealing the entrance. Draco walked in without a word and Harry followed.

The place was deserted, save for a few dim lights in the windows. The Leaky Cauldron was still open, no surprise there. Harry shuffled awkwardly, wondering what he could say to make this better. Only one thing seemed to come to mind. "For what it's worth, I really am sorry."

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Potter, I…"

" **There they are! That's them!** "

Harry whirled around in alarm and drew his wand on instinct, vaguely aware that Draco was doing the same. His eyes widened as a crowd came out of nowhere, virtually descending on them. Draco gasped and grabbed hold of his arm. Harry pulled him closer without thinking.

Thudding footsteps rattled across the alley as people rushed in from every corner, converging at a single point towards them. People with notepads and cameras.

"Fuck," Harry cursed. "Papparazzi."

"How did they…" Draco began.

"I don't know. Word must have gotten out," Harry growled. "We should…"

His voice was immediately drowned out as the crowd surrounded them. For a second, he was overwhelmed by the sheer number of faces around them and then the questions started pouring out.

"Mr Potter! A quote for the  _Magical Inquirer_!"

"What is your relationship with Mr Malfoy?"

"Is it true that you're eloping?"

"Mr Malfoy, over here!"

"Get a picture of them, damn it!"

"Mr Potter, are you aware that Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater?" That one was Rita Skeeter. She grinned gleefully at them, wearing robes of the most sickening shade of purple and holding her Quick Notes Quill aloft like a weapon.

"I am  **not!** " Draco snarled, pointing his wand at her. Harry snatched it up at once before he did something he'd regret later. "Don't let her get to you," he muttered. Draco sneered but said nothing. Around them, the questions kept on coming.

"Mr Malfoy, is Harry Potter your mystery fiancé? Do you have anything to say to our readers?"

"Can you give us a quote?"

"Will someone take a damn picture!"

"We have to get out of here," Draco blurted. He was starting to feel suffocated and the press of bodies all around them was making him frantic. Harry was a rock solid presence next to him and Draco latched to him for comfort. Harry nodded firmly. "Start moving," he ordered. "Don't answer any questions. Don't even say ' _No comment_ '. Just keep walking."

"But…"

"I'm right here. I won't leave you, I promise."

Draco nodded and obeyed. The crowd thrummed around him, bellowing questions and clicking pictures. The flashes stung his eyes but he focused himself on Harry's hand on the small of his back, guiding him gently but firmly. They managed to swamp their way over to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Inside. Now," Harry ordered, pushing him through and following at once. He had the good sense to lock the door behind him, but that would only give them a few minutes at most. The reporters were already banging frantically.

"We need to get out of here," Harry announced, as he barged up the stairs to the first floor.

"The Manor?" Draco offered. Harry shook his head. "That's the first place they'll look. My guess is your house is surrounded. My flat too. We'll be stranded for days. Where does Zabini live?"

"Our place or with whoever he's shagging," Draco answered. Harry swore and smacked his forehead. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"What about your friends?" Draco demanded.

"Ginny's out for the night and she doesn't have a Floo anyway. Ron and Hermione are out of the country. That leaves…" He went over a mental list before coming up with something. "Come on!" he ordered, taking Draco's hand. Draco followed him at once, running to keep up. The doors were open again and he could see the crowd pushing its way in. All he could hear was the thundering of footsteps and frantic yelling - it was chaos.

"Hurry!" he shouted.

" _Incendio!_ " Harry shouted at the fireplace. It flared to life instantly. Frantically, he pulled out a bag of Floo powder from his pocket.

"You carry that around with you?" Draco demanded, flabbergasted. The reporters were running up the stairs now. He could hear them…

"I like to be prepared!" Harry belted back. "Now come on! We don't have much time!" He threw the powder in the flames and they turned a fiery green.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!" he bellowed, herding Draco towards the fire.

"We're going to make it," Draco cried. "We're actually … wait.  _Hogwarts?!_ "

"Go!" Harry howled, pushing him through.

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy was not amused. This was the second time in so many weeks that he had been kidnapped by his barking mad fiancé and it was starting to tell on his health. If he had bags under his eyes after this debacle, Potter was going to suffer.

At least McGonagall had been helpful. Say what you liked about the Hogwarts Headmistress, she was good in a crisis. Save for the odd twitch, she had been absolutely calm during Harry's brief retelling of their situation. She had then proceeded to congratulate them - much to Draco's annoyance - and informed them that as long as there was no trouble or mayhem of any sort (that particular warning had been delivered rather sternly to a sheepish looking Harry while Draco snickered), they were welcome to stay as long as they liked.

He sighed and threw himself on the four poster bed, noting with a grimace that it was clearly meant for two. McGonagall had graciously shifted them into a room at the first possible moment. A _single_  room - clearly meant to be shared by a couple. He hadn't even known such rooms existed in Hogwarts. Personally Draco would have preferred a spot on the floor in the Great Hall to rooming with Potter, but he was in no mood for more scenes. Potter would probably drag him back anyway. He would just have to make the best of it.

All these thoughts of Potter were making him rather cranky. Since the git was not present to rail at - having chosen to drown himself in the shower - Draco had to make do with muttering to himself.

"Hogwarts," he muttered resentfully. "Of all the half arsed, hare brained, ridiculous things to say…"

"I panicked. And I didn't see you come up with any bright ideas."

Draco squeaked in alarm, then groaned and buried his head in a pillow. "One of these days I'm going to manage ten minutes without you sneaking up on me," he announced.

Potter chuckled. "Keep telling yourself that."

Draco turned around, readying himself for another round of bickering. Whatever he was going to say - and he was sure it had been something appropriately witty and scathing - was promptly forgotten as he took in the sight of Potter. The man had emerged from the shower, dripping wet and with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Potter seemed oblivious to his state of undress. He just walked around the room, all tanned skin and lean limbs and toned muscles. Draco's mouth promptly went dry and his mind drew a complete blank. Potter had done some dastardly things in the past but this was just unsportsmanlike behaviour. What was he thinking? Did he plan to walk around like this when they were married? Perhaps he'd discard the towel altogether and… and now he was voluntarily thinking about marriage to Potter. Fantasizing, as it turned out. Draco fought the urge to jump out the nearest window.

Potter's lips moved and belatedly, Draco realized that he must have said something.

"What?" he blurted.

"I said we'll probably be here for a day or two," Potter repeated, rummaging around for the shirt he had discarded. He spotted it and bent down to retrieve it. If he heard Draco's sharp intake of breath, he ignored and blithely transfigured the shirt it into a pair of black pyjama bottoms. "Eventually, they'll get bored and go away. We can transfigure some clothes and stuff in the morning. Oh, and I already owled your father and explained everything."

"Lovely," Draco sneered, smothering himself with the pillow again. "It's a dream come true." He heard Potter sigh and there was a rustle of cloth as the man approached him. Draco stiffened when he felt a hand press down on his arm, pushing him on his back. He yielded reluctantly, glaring distrustfully at the man looming above him. Potter hovered uncertainly and  _still_ undressed, damn it to hell. He was wearing the pyjama bottoms, and Draco tried very hard not to let his gaze linger on the broad shoulders and chest inches from him.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about this," Potter said, sounding suspiciously sincere.

"I'm sorry too. Sorry you were born," Draco retorted pettily.

Potter rubbed his temples with his free hand and sat down next to him. "Can you stop fighting me for just a minute?"

"No!" Draco snapped, curling up defensively at once. He shook Potter's hand off and glared blearily at him. Mercifully, Potter let him go. "Why not?" he asked reasonably.

"Because you're confusing me!" Draco burst out. "You came out of nowhere and you messed up  _everything_  and I don't know why you're doing this! And now we're stuck here and…" He trailed off, unable to finish. Potter didn't respond. He just watched Draco quietly, with that intent, calculating look in his eyes. Draco hugged his legs to his chest, glaring sullenly at the floor. He just wanted Potter gone.

The prat refused to cooperate. He held his hand out. "Come here," he ordered softly. Draco scowled belligerently and stayed put, readying himself for another fight. But Potter didn't seem interested in a row. He just kept his hand extended in silent invitation, looking patient and collected and everything Draco wasn't at the moment.

"Make me," he challenged sulkily.

"I could, but that's not what you need right now. I'd much rather you came to me by choice," Potter replied.

"Shan't," Draco snapped at once, smirking as Potter visibly prayed for patience. But when he turned back, his eyes were soft.

"Just come here, Draco. Please. I won't hurt you, I swear."

Draco had half a mind to argue that claim, but he really was exhausted. All he wanted was for this to be over, and the best way to do that was to just do as Potter asked. The stubborn git was unlikely to give up anyway. So he crawled over to the edge of the bed where Potter was sitting. He sat on his haunches and crossed his arms defensively, keeping as much distance between himself and his fiancé as possible. Potter wasn't having it. He reached for Draco's arm and pulled him closer. Draco followed but stiffened when Potter tried to pull him onto his lap.

"It's okay," the man soothed immediately. "I'm just trying to get you to relax. Come on, you'll be fine."

Draco muttered under his breath but complied. He straddled Potter's lap, barely holding in a gasp as the warmth of skin pervaded the thin fabric of Potter's garment. Potter felt warm and strong and firm beneath him and the faint scent of aftershave wafted around Draco.

 _This_  was a very bad idea.

Then Potter wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. Draco gasped as he was pressed against Potter's chest. Pressed up against the man was torture, couldn't he  _see_  that? Potter hummed and started rubbing his tense back. Smooth motions that soothed the taut muscles and despite himself, Draco found himself relaxing into the broad frame. Before he could register it, his arms moving of their own accord and wrapping themselves around Potter's neck.

"That's it," Potter praised, stroking his hair now. "Doesn't that feel better?"

"No," Draco lied. "Rub my back again."

He could feel Potter's chest rumble as he laughed. "It's like owning a cat," he quipped dryly.

Draco flared up at once. "You do not  _own_  me…" he began but Potter cut him off, wrapping his arms around him again to cut off any escape attempts.

"You know I didn't mean it that way," he said sternly. "Why does everything have to be a battle with you?"

Draco didn't really know the answer to that. He'd been fighting Potter for so long. Was he expected to just stop? That didn't seem fair. "I can't just give in to everything you say," he finally replied.

"I don't want that," Potter stated, moving to stroke his hair again. "I just want you to stop seeing me as someone you need to protect yourself from. I want you to trust me."

"Why?" Draco demanded. "That's what I want to know. Why this? Why now? What do you _want_ , Potter?"

Potter's hands trailed down his sides and Draco shivered against the touch. They rested on his hips and Potter's fingers flexed against his skin, almost if he was trying to restrain himself. "Look at you, Draco" he whispered huskily. "Is it really so difficult to understand what I want from you?"

Draco's stomach twisted uncomfortably at Potter's words. "So that's it then," he said quietly. "You're looking for an easy lay."

Potter snorted. "I'd hardly call it  _easy_." Draco scowled and pulled away. He glared at Potter and the man responded with a cheeky grin and tucked a wayward strand of blond hair behind Draco's ear. "You know if you're going to sit in my lap and pout like that, I really can't be held responsible for the consequences," he warned. Draco huffed and made to get up and immediately found a hand clamped down on his arm. "Stop that," Potter chided. "You're being ridiculous. If all I wanted from you was a quick shag, don't you think I'd have done things a little differently? In case you haven't noticed, I  _am_  trying court you."

"And doing a fine job of it," Draco muttered resentfully. "You keep pushing me around."

"If I didn't, I wouldn't stand a chance with you," Potter argued. "You'd destroy me."

Draco snickered at that happy thought and Potter rolled his eyes. "Prat," he scolded, pushing the blond back against his chest. Draco curled up obediently. He felt a bit better… less murderous, at any rate. All this talking was making him sleepy. And Potter was so comfortable. "Too tired right now," he yawned. "I'll… destroy you in the morning."

"You probably will," Potter muttered, as he shifted. Draco groaned in complaint as he felt himself being hauled up and laid down on the bed. He tumbled in the sheets, grumbling as Potter's warmth retreated. "Stay," Draco whined. It was cold. He reached out and pulled at his hand, trying to tug him down.

"And have you stab me the second you're thinking coherently again?" Potter asked dryly. "I don't think so. I'll transfigure a couch." He gently detached himself from Draco who scowled resentfully at him. Potter grinned and bent down, pressing a kiss against his forehead. "Good night, beautiful."

Draco listened, half asleep as Harry's footsteps faded away. He curled into the blankets and fell into slumber, trying to ignore the small part of him that wished Harry had stayed anyway.

* * *

 

Lucius smirked as he glanced through Potter's hurried scrawl. He scribbled back a note for the owl and watched it fly off, before turning away from the window. A disapproving set of brown eyes stopped him in his tracks.

"What?" Lucius asked.

"What did you do?" Andromeda asked sternly.

"Why my dear, I have no idea what you mean," Lucius protested. "I just received a note from Potter. They were regrettably waylaid by some rogue reporters and decided to take an impromptu trip to Hogwarts."

"I see," Andromeda drawled. "Interesting how those reporters knew exactly where to find them, isn't it?"

"A strange occurrence, indeed."

"Very strange. It's almost as if  _someone_  tipped them off. Someone who knew where Draco would be this evening."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Do you know something I don't, Andromeda?"

"I'm not sure, Lucius. What I do know is that tomorrow there will be an announcement in the papers about Draco's engagement to Harry. Everyone will know which will naturally make this a formal engagement, rather than a standard courtship. And of course there's that little matter of them being stranded together with only each other for company. That's rather convenient. Oh, and I also happen to know that the  _Prophet_  descended on Diagon Alley within minutes of an owl that  _you_  sent to one Rita Skeeter."

Lucius chuckled. "I've always admired your admirable sense of logic, Andromeda. Now don't be like that," he chuckled as she glared at him. "I merely… arranged for Draco to spend some extended time with his fiancé. Surely, that doesn't classify as evil."

"I just hope you know what you're doing," she replied. "Love can't be orchestrated."

"But marriages can," Lucius smirked. "Oh now, calm down. Love is a possibility. Marriages are certain. I am simply trying to assure the best for Draco's future."

"Well you know best, I'm sure," she replied stiffly. "But if this blows up in your face - which it _will_ , mind you - I reserve the right to say I told you so."

"As if you wouldn't anyway," Lucius replied, allowing a grin to break out on his visage. Andromeda huffed indignantly and marched back to her room. Lucius chuckled fondly as he watched her stomp off. Belatedly, he decided to send out an owl out to Ferguson's Flowers.

A dozen roses were hardly going to get him back in her good graces. But it was definitely a start.

 


	12. The Marvelous Manoeuvre of Draco Malfoy

Draco woke up to sunlight streaming in his room. He groaned and buried himself under the blankets. Seriously, the next time he and Potter stayed at Hogwarts, they were rooming in the dungeons. Stupid sunlight ruining his sleep and… suddenly, the direction his sleep addled thoughts had taken caught up with him and Draco sat up abruptly.

This growing tendency of his could not be a good thing. Thinking about Harry in any manner that implied that this situation was permanent was stupid and reckless. Not to mention  _mad_. He couldn't possibly imagine spending his life with him. Not after spending a good decade or so actively hating the man's guts.

Except Harry seemed to think so. Then again, Harry was insane. Draco huffed irritably - yet another unfortunate side effect to his proximity to the Gryffindor Git. Just what was he thinking anyway? You couldn't just up and go for whatever the hell you wanted just  _because!_  That was not how things worked. Oh, and Harry has always been  _so_  concerned about the proper order of things, he found himself thinking sarcastically. And now he was referring to him as Harry inside his head.

Well, wasn't that nice.

Draco threw the blankets off and slipped off to the shower. He glanced at the couch that had most certainly not been there the night before, expecting to see Potter sprawled across and snoring.

He wasn't there. A blanket was strewn across, along with the pyjamas. Draco blushed unexpectedly. Potter had probably changed while he was still sleeping. The blond bit his lip. The thought of being in the same room as an apparently naked Harry Potter was  _not_  one he needed to explore right now.

Groaning and cursing to oblivion and back, Draco slipped in for a shower. He suspected that if Potter persisted in walking around with his clothes off, he was going to be taking a  _lot_  more showers.

* * *

 

Draco spent a while, exploring the castle. There was a fond nostalgia there, despite being tempered with images of the War. The students regarded him curiously, but none had dared to approach him so far. He amused himself with glaring at a few Hufflepuffs (just like old times) before sauntering out to the Quidditch Pitch.

Draco grinned as the familiar metal hoops glinted in the morning sun, a good thirty feet from the ground. He shielded his eyes and watched with interest as a blur flew by on a broom. A match was in progress. No, not a match - else the whole school would be out here. Probably practice then.

Draco jogged down to the pitch, hoping to catch Slytherin in action again. He hovered by the empty stands, watching as the players swoop across open sky, tossing the Quaffle around and revising team tactics and strategies. Gryffindors probably, considering the ruckus they were making. The Slytherins had always been a lot more reserved - choosing to use only hand signals and gestures for communication during the game.

Suddenly the players were swooping to the ground. One of them - probably the Seeker, Draco mused noting the boy's wiry build - landed next to him. "Did you see that?" he asked Draco excitedly. "I caught it! That's the first time I ever caught it!" He held up the Snitch proudly and Draco found himself somewhat amused by the child's infectious enthusiasm.

"Very impressive," he offered.

"I know, right?" he babbled. "Billy Johnson said I don't stand a chance against Slytherin but I'll show him! He doesn't know I'm practicing with the ruddy  _Cannons Seeker_ , does he? I can't wait to see his face when I…"

"What?" Draco blurted. His questions were immediately answered as someone swooped down almost next to him. Potter was riding a rather ancient Cleansweep Seven, his hair swept back and his cheeks red from exertion. And he was grinning so widely his face would probably split.

"Jack! Mate, you caught it. Told you it would work, didn't I?"

"It worked just like you said, Harry!" Jack exclaimed excitedly, thrusting the Snitch in Potter's face now. "I kept my…"

"Legs close to your body to balance your weight," Harry finished. "Remember to keep your elbows tucked in or you might catch a Bludger. And…"

Draco rolled his eyes and cleared his throat meaningfully. Harry whipped around to face him and grinned sheepishly. "I was just helping out the old team," he explained awkwardly as the blond raised an eyebrow. "Go Gryffindors and all." Jack whooped and high-fived him. Harry grinned at him and shrugged at Draco in a  _what-can-you-do_  manner.

Draco's lips twitched. "Couldn't last one day without the fan club, Potter?" he drawled. "You had to go and build a new one?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, someone has to make sure they're prepared for the big game," he replied. "As I recall, Slytherins are cheaters."

"As I recall, Gryffindors were just plain lucky."

Potter raised his eyebrows. "Do I detect the hint of a challenge, Malfoy? I could still grind you into the dust."

Before Draco could retort, Jack cut in. "Malfoy?" he blurted, gawking at Draco. "Are you… you're not  _Draco_  Malfoy, are you?"

"I… am?" Draco responded doubtfully. He hadn't expected anyone to know him by name here. Potter yes, he was practically a celebrity but not him, surely.

Jack seemed to disagree. His brown eyes widened to inexplicable proportions. "No way!" he babbled. "No ruddy way! Hey guys!" he bellowed at his teammates. Six pairs of eyes turned to regard them curiously. "Guys, you're not going to believe this! It's Draco  _Malfoy_!"

"No!"

"Seriously?"

" _The_  Draco Malfoy?"

Draco immediately found himself in a sea of wide eyed Gryffindors. They gaped at him with dropped jaws and huge eyes, chattering excitedly among themselves. Draco stared at Harry who looked rather lost as well.

"Can you believe it?" one of the Chasers babbled excitedly. "Harry Potter  _and_  Draco Malfoy in the same  _day_?" The rest of the team responded with eager chatter and Draco and Harry exchanged confused glances.

"Am I… missing something?" Harry cut in finally.

Jack was the one who cleared thing up. "You two are  _legendary_!" he explained eagerly. "Like the ultimate rivals!"

"We've heard all the stories about your best games," a Beater broke in. "Like that time when you and Malfoy were racing for the Snitch and you broke your arm catching it!"

Harry grinned, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Well, we were kind of competitive back then…"

" _Kind_  of competitive?" Jack echoed indignantly. "You were  _madmen_! It was awesome! Draco, did you really set Harry's broom on fire that one time?"

"He was cheating," Draco supplied, grinning unapologetically as Harry scowled.

"As if you never cheated," Harry belted indignantly. "What about when you did that loopy, swervy thing and knocked me off my broom? You nearly took off my head!"

"You used the Malfoy Manoeuvre on Harry  _Potter_?" Jack gasped.

"It has a name?" Harry sputtered indignantly.

"Well, what do you know?" Draco smirked. "They named a move after me. Hey Potter, how many Quidditch moves do you have named after you?"

Harry scowled. "It's not a real thing!" he protested.

"Is too," Draco grinned. "Hey Jack, has anyone else used the Malfoy Manoeuvre lately?"

"Only every Slytherin Seeker," Jack replied, rolling his eyes. "It's like their signature move."

Draco preened unabashedly. "Well, it seems I've got a fan following," he said, grinning at a glaring Harry over his shoulder. "And I didn't even need to join a big, fancy National League to do it."

"It's not a real thing!" Harry snapped.

"It is so a real thing!" Draco retorted, stepping closer and glaring the prat down. "You're just jealous that you don't have a move named after you!"

"Neither do you! It's not a real thing!"

"You know what's a real thing, Potter? My fist!"

They were barging into each other now and their chests were practically touching. Draco glared into Potter's flashing green eyes, his mouth tight and his body thrumming with tension. Around them, the Gryffindors stood transfixed.

"They're going to fight," the Chaser whispered excitedly. "We're gonna see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy fight! Oh my god, this is officially the best day of my life!"

Harry stepped back at once and raised his hands. "No one is going to fight," he declared. "We don't have anything to prove. And besides, it wouldn't be fair anyway so let's just drop it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded at once.

Harry shrugged apologetically. "Well, let's face it Draco.  _I'm_  a professional Quidditch Player and you're… well, not. We were probably in the same league at some point but I could flatten you now. Hell, I'd probably catch the Snitch before you were off the ground."

There was an immediate bout of  _ooohs_  from the assembled Gryffindors and Draco bristled. "You want to put your money where your mouth is, Potter?" he hissed.

Harry gave him a condescending grin that made his blood boil. "Well, if you insist on public humiliation who am I to deny you?"

"Fine!" Draco spat. "Right here. Right now. Gryffindor versus Slytherin."

"Can we play too?" one of the Gryffindors asked imploringly. "You'll need a team!"

"Of course," Harry replied. "Gryffindors forever, mate!" He turned to give Draco a teasing smirk. "I don't suppose you'll have a team in the next ten minutes, will you?"

"Jack!" Draco snapped, his eyes blazing as he glared at Potter. "Round up the Slytherin team. Tell them Draco Malfoy demands their presence on the pitch in five minutes."

"Yes sir!" Jack squeaked, taking off like a Firebolt. Draco didn't notice, he was too busy locked in a staring contest with Potter. "I'm going to wipe this pitch with you," he declared.

"May the best man win," Harry smirked.

"Oh don't worry," Draco purred. "I will."

* * *

 

Jack had outdone himself. Not only had he procured the Slytherin team in five minutes flat, but he had wrangled a sizable audience as well. The crowd was milling about as eager Gryffindors and Slytherins crowded the pitch, hoping for a glance of the famous Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy in action. Some Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were watching with mild interest as well. Chants filled the air as Slytherins and Gryffindors rooted for their teams and Harry grinned as he noticed not a few red banners fluttering around.

It was just like old times. And he couldn't wait to take Malfoy on again.

"Alright team," he announced, looking around at his eager players. "We're changing the rules a bit to accommodate everyone. So, we'll have two Seekers for the match. Jack, you ready? Good. The rest of you - just do what you've been doing at practice. Keep an eye out for Bludgers. Beaters, we're counting on you. And remember - they're Slytherins, so stay on your toes. Everyone got that?"

He grinned at the resounding chorus of whoops and cheers. "Go Gryffindors," Harry yelled. "Now let's go out there and give them hell!"

The team howled in unison and took off. Harry grinned and turned to shoot Draco a grin. The blond was at the other end of the pitch, giving the Slytherins his own pep talk. He caught Harry's eye and the Gryffindor gave him a wink. Draco responded by slashing his finger across his throat in a threatening gesture.

Harry laughed.

Just like old times.

* * *

 

"And remember, they're Gryffindors," Draco finished. "Clearly, you possess the advantage of superior intellect."

The assembled team snickered and Draco nodded, satisfied. "Any questions?"

"Are we allowed to set brooms on fire?" a petite blonde girl asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "As team captain and honorary Seeker, I have to say no. That would be cheating and completely against the rules," he drawled. "By the way, what's the Slytherin motto again?"

"It's not cheating if you don't get caught!" the team chorused. Draco grinned at the girl. "Any more questions, Chaser?"

"No sir," she smirked.

"Right then, let's get out there and show those Gryffindors how to play Quidditch. Make me proud. Or else."

They marched off like a battle formation. Across the field, Draco caught Potter's intent eye. He smirked and made a slashing gesture against his throat. Potter laughed and gave him a thumbs-up.

Draco smiled and summoned his broom.

Just like old times.

* * *

 

"Just couldn't let it go, could you?" Madame Hooch asked dryly as both teams jogged out to the pitch. "I suppose it's too much to ask for a nice, clean game?"

"No Ma'am. We'll play nice," Harry said. Draco merely smirked, choosing not to commit himself.

"Right," the witch drawled, sounding utterly unconvinced. "Team Captains, shake hands. And let's try to keep  _everyone_  out of the Hospital Wing, shall we?"

Harry stepped up and put out his hand. Draco took it, wrapping his long fingers around Harry's in a light grip. "Good luck, Potter," he drawled. "You'll need it."

Harry smirked and squeezed lightly. "When I win, I expect a prize. A kiss from my fiancé."

Draco flushed but raised his chin defiantly. " _If_  you win I'll consider it."

"Scared, Malfoy?"

"You wish, Potter."

"Captains, mount your brooms!"

Harry mounted his broom and kicked off as the whistle sounded. Draco was right beside him, grey eyes glinting with challenge and silently promising him a hell of a fight before this was over. Those pretty, pouty lips smirked and then Draco swooped gracefully, scouring for the Snitch.

Harry grinned and took off behind him.

It was on.

* * *

 

**Two hours later...**

They were back in their room. Harry was sulking with his leg in a cast and Draco was thumbing through a novel, his lips pressed together firmly as he tried his best not to laugh.

"Say it," Harry growled.

"Say what?" Draco asked innocently.

"You know exactly what," Harry snapped. "So say it and get it over with."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," Draco claimed, batting his lashes. "Unless you're referring to your abject humiliation on the Quidditch pitch."

"Prat," Harry muttered.

"Oh and since you brought it up -  _we caught the Snitch, we caught the Snitch_ ," Draco sing-songed aggravatingly.

Harry stood up indignantly and winced as his foot throbbed. He hobbled over to where Draco was seated and crossed his arms, glaring at the grinning blond. " _You_  did not catch the Snitch," he gritted out. "Billy Johnson caught the Snitch."

"Oh that's right. And do refresh my memory, what was that astounding formation he pulled when he caught it? You know - the one that made you crash into a goal post and crumple to the ground in a heap of utter failure?"

Harry mumbled resentfully and Draco snickered. "What was that? I don't think I heard you."

" **The Malfoy Manoeuvre, okay?!** "

Draco cackled gleefully and Harry huffed, intending to stomp off. He stopped as he felt a hand on his, pulling him back. "Stop being a sore loser," Draco chided. "And lie down, you idiot. You're going to twist your ankle."

"You're teasing me," Harry pouted sullenly.

"Boo hoo, poor Potter," Draco drawled, pushing him back against the pillows. "You're just mad that you're not getting your kiss."

"But I'm wounded!" Harry protested.

"Yes well, you should have thought about that before you smashed into a goalpost at breakneck speed," Draco informed him. "Honestly Potter, have you no sense of personal safety?"

Harry grinned cheekily. "Why? Were you worried about me?"

"Hardly," Draco sniffed. "Save for the inconvenience of having to nurse you back to health, now that you're incapacitated."

"I like it," Harry announced, settling back against the pillows and letting Draco fuss about for a while. "Maybe I'll crash into things more often."

"Do it and I'll never kiss you again!" Draco threatened, inexplicably angry at the suggestion. He told himself that Potter's tendency of taking foolish risks was annoying him. That was all. It certainly wasn't concern. And that flash of pure panic he had experienced when Harry had collided into the post and careened to the ground was a fluke. A  _fluke!_  He flushed as Harry fixed him with a curious look and promptly looked away, fiddling with the pillows again.

"You don't kiss me anyway," the prat announced sulkily.

"And I'm not going to," Draco declared. "Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Read then. Just stop bothering me."

"Fine, fine. Can you pass me that novel you were reading? It's right there."

Draco rolled his eyes and reached over Potter to fetch the novel. Immediately, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. Draco groaned as he was flipped over. He really should have seen that one coming. He landed on the bed with a smirking, unrepentant Potter looming above him. "And that, Malfoy is a little something  _I_  call The Potter Ploy," he said, before leaning down and crushing his mouth against the blond's.


	13. The Blushing Bride of Harry Potter

Draco awoke the next morning, tangled in blankets again. He blinked sleepily, noting with chagrin that he was alone. Not that he had expected Potter to sleep in the same bed - or even  _wanted_ him to. It was just that they'd snogged quite a bit last night and he had expected his persuasive fiancé to demand the right to sleep next to him. Potter hadn't pressed the issue. He had simply slipped off Draco after kissing the very life out of him and headed for his couch.

Draco scowled at the room in general, before catching sight of the bane of his existence sprawled on the sofa. Potter was lying on his stomach with those cursed pyjamas riding low on his hips. Draco eyed him intently, taking the time to really look at Potter. He was lean and tall and had long, dark eyelashes that fluttered as he slumbered. Draco cocked his head. Was he dreaming? The man frowned and turned in his sleep, hissing in pain as his injured foot caught on the arm of the sofa.

Draco sighed and approached the couch. Potter's forehead was furrowed and he mumbled something, batting around for his pillow. Draco rolled his eyes and arranged it under his arm. Potter immediately sighed and mumbled something sounded suspiciously like  _Draco_. Despite himself, the blond smiled.

"Git," he whispered, reaching out tentatively and stroking the lines of Potter's face. The skin smoothed out under his touch as Potter relaxed and fell back into an even sleep. Draco shook his head and lifted the man's injured leg, placing it against the arm of the sofa. That had to be more comfortable.

"Pleasant dreams, you stupid Gryffindor," he murmured, heading off for a shower.

* * *

 

Draco was already in the Great Hall, helping himself to breakfast when Potter trudged in. He looked scruffy and sulky and his hair stood up in all different directions. Draco smirked. Potter clearly wasn't much of a morning person. He caught sight of Draco and shuffled over, sitting next to him.

"Well, you look rested," Draco declared cheerfully. Potter ignored him and scowled at the marmalade. Draco noted the bags under his eyes with a twang of guilt. The couch was probably uncomfortable, and Harry was injured. He should have offered to take the couch for the night. Now Potter was probably going to be sullen all day. That was hardly fair. Being sullen was Draco's job. On an impulse, he reached out and carded a hand through Harry's hair, trying to pat it down.

Harry responded by whining and slumping against his shoulder. "Really Potter," Draco admonished. "McGonagall is staring at you." That much was true. As a matter of fact, several of their former teachers were looking over at them with alternate looks of confusion and amusement. No one seemed overtly shocked though, Draco noted. They'd probably been following the  _Prophet_ 's fantastic coverage.

Potter didn't care. He refused to extricate himself from the crook of Draco's neck and he was getting rather heavy. The blond sighed and poured a cup of coffee, handing it to him. "Here," he sighed. "Drink it and try to act like a functional human being."

Potter blinked at the cup. "Coffee?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, you sot," Draco drawled. "Here, have at it."

Potter accepted the cup gratefully. "Thanks," he murmured. Then without so much as a warning, he turned and pressed his lips to the hollow of Draco's throat. The blond gasped softly, but Potter was already up and sipping his coffee as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Across the hall, McGonagall dabbed her mouth with a napkin, evidently trying to hide a smile.

Draco shook his head hopelessly and went back to his breakfast.

* * *

 

For once, they spent the day without any major mishaps. They spent their first few hours wandering around the castle. Harry insisted on visiting all his favourite haunts. That boy had spent far too much time in the Room of Requirement in Draco's opinion. When they stepped in, the room promptly provided them lighted candles, a steaming bath and a huge bed covered in rose petals. Harry whooped in delight while Draco chose to make a run for the door at once.

Then, they had lunch in the Astronomy Tower because Draco was sick and tired of being accosted by Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, demanding a rematch. Potter snagged his sandwich and Draco nicked his pumpkin juice, so all in all fair trade.

Soon enough, they were back outside. Draco chose to read quietly by the lake, while Harry decided to play coach again. He was with the Ravenclaw team this time, shouting encouragement and giving pointers wherever possible. Draco found his eyes drifting from his novel and lingering on Potter longer than necessary.

He seemed to like being around children. He laughed and traded jokes and offered advice freely. They seemed to like him too. Most of them hung on his every word, following him around the pitch with incessant pleas to demonstrate his best moves. Harry obliged them all with an easy manner.

It was… nice, Draco thought. Potter would make an excellent father someday. As was habit, he grimaced at the thought. Still, he supposed it would be nice to see that side of Harry. In theory of course, and  _only_  to satisfy his sense of curiosity.

Still…

"Damn, the little buggers can fly," a voice declared. Draco didn't bother looking up. He was used to Potter sneaking up on him by now. His fiancé settled next to him with a sigh of relief. "I'm exhausted."

"Perhaps you're just getting old," Draco retorted, burying himself in his book again. He could almost feel Potter's look of indignation. Draco smirked to himself.

"I'll show you old," Potter growled, snatching the book up nimbly and hauling Draco up again for a kiss. Draco hissed in aggravation as Potter's mouth found his again. He indulged his fiancé for about five seconds before picking up the discarded book and smacking him on the head.

"Behave. There are children around."

"We're engaged!" Potter protested, rubbing his head gingerly.

"That doesn't give you free rein to act like a heathen in public." He ignored Potter's pouting and continued reading, only to stop as something nudged his way on to his lap.

"Harry!" Draco he snapped, glaring down at the man who had comfortably settled with his head in Draco's lap. "Have you no sense of personal boundaries?"

"Nope," Harry declared cheekily, staring up at Draco. Suddenly, his brow furrowed in a frown. "You have a birthmark under your chin," he announced, reaching up to trace it with his fingers.

"I'm aware," Draco replied; trying to hedge away from the curious probing. "Potter, stop manhandling me. I'm trying to read."

"Let me see," Potter insisted, tipping Draco's chin up to get a look. The blond huffed but complied. Potter was just going to be stubborn again. In the past week or so, Draco had learnt to pick his battles. If he gave the man these little victories, he was more likely to get his way on more important things. He tried not to think about how that reasoning made him sound a lot like a wife.

"It looks a bit like a cat," Potter declared finally. He released Draco's chin and the blond stared down at him.

"Really," he drawled. Potter nodded, rather sure of his observation. "Definitely a cat," he assured Draco.

"You're an imbecile," Draco retorted. "Now do you mind if I get back to reading? You can inspect me for blemishes some other time."

"Promise?" Potter smirked. Draco rolled his eyes and smacked the git with the book again.

"Spoilsport," Potter muttered. Draco grinned and returned to his book. And if his hand drifted to casually stroke at Harry's hair as he read, he didn't notice.

* * *

 

Draco woke abruptly and blinked in sleepy surprise. It was dark and he was still outside, sitting by the lake. And he was alone.

"Harry?" he mumbled anxiously. He was nowhere in sight. Draco pouted. Surely, Harry hadn't left him out here? Well, he might have. It was hardly a long walk to their room and perhaps he had just assumed that Draco would come back when he woke up. But still, the idea that Harry had just gone off without him hurt a bit.

"Hey. I didn't think you'd wake up so soon," a voice crooned softly. Draco started as Harry crouched next to him, looking concerned.

"Where were you?" he demanded, wishing he didn't sound so whiny.

Harry chuckled and thumbed his cheek lightly. "I went to see Slughorn. I was only gone a few minutes. I figured you'd still be asleep when I got back."

"You left me," Draco retorted sullenly. He was feeling rather petulant about it. "Why'd you go see Slughorn?"

Harry waved it off. "Nothing important; just thought I'd say hi. You were fast asleep so…"

"You should've woken me," Draco insisted.

"I couldn't," Harry grinned. "You just looked so… cute."

"You're really pushing it, Potter," Draco grumbled, trying to stand. His legs were stiff thanks to being cramped up all day and he couldn't quite get them to cooperate. He wobbled and almost collapsed, but Harry grabbed hold of him just in time. "Hang on," he advised, holding Draco upright.

The next second, Draco squeaked in alarm as he found himself hoisted up in his fiancé's arms and being carried back to his room. Out of instinct he wrapped his arms around the man's neck to steady himself. Potter chortled and jostled him a bit, marching across the grounds effortlessly. Draco was not amused. "I am not your blushing bride!" he snapped, flushing with embarrassment.

"Could've fooled me," Potter snickered. "Merlin, you're light. Do you eat at  _all_?"

"Put me down at once!"

"You can't walk, genius. It'll take you ages to get to the room and I'm not about to wait that long."

"Then go ahead. I'll walk up myself!"

Potter smirked at him. "You were sulking because I left you alone not two minutes ago," he pointed out smugly. "Admit it, Draco. You love it when I spoil you."

"I tolerate it," Draco sniffed. "Because you are a brute who never listens to reason."

"Well, tolerate it now. Because I'm your fiancé and I'm going to exercise the few -  ** _very_** few - privileges I have."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Very subtle, Potter. And you get enough privileges. I let you snog me and I don't throw things at you anymore."

"Lucky me," Potter groused. But he pulled Draco closer anyway, compelling the blond to rest against his shoulder. By the time they were in the room Draco was almost asleep again, lulled by the warmth of Harry's body and his solid presence.

He whined when he was laid out on the bed. Harry shushed him and tucked the blankets around him but he was cold again and he  _really_  didn't want to wake up in this big bed alone. Draco mumbled and tightened his grip around the man's neck. "Draco, let go," Potter whispered. "It's time to sleep now."

"Stay," Draco demanded.

"No," Harry replied firmly. "Come on, let go."

Draco held on mulishly and Harry sighed, trying to pry his fingers off. "Stop it, you brat. If I sleep here, you'll just kick up a fuss in the morning."

"I won't," Draco insisted. He looked up at Harry with imploring grey eyes and angled for his best pout. "Please, Harry? I'm cold."

Harry gaped at him, apparently torn. "That is  _really_  unfair," he declared finally.

Draco smirked and shifted over to make room. "You better remember this in the morning," Harry grumbled, slipping in beside him. He put his arms around Draco and pulled him closer. Draco curled into his chest with a sigh of contentment and closed his eyes.

Yes, Potter could have his little victories.

As long as Draco got his way on the important stuff.


	14. The Awkward Instrusion of Ginny Weasley

It was a few days later when Harry pointed out that they should probably think about returning to their normal lives. Draco had found himself not entirely enthralled with the thought. Their brief time at Hogwarts had been pleasant - defying all his expectations - and he had grown to like it.

He had also grown to like Harry. That had definitely defied all his expectations.

At the very least, he certainly liked sleeping next to Harry. And snogging him. And waking up with him. And snogging him again.

Draco smiled to himself. At least, Harry would still be around, even if Hogwarts wasn't. Silver lining and all that…

He sauntered down the corridors, making his way to McGonagall's office. Harry had asked to meet him there so they could Floo back to his apartment. Draco of course, could have gone back to the Manor directly but he found himself wanting to spend some time with Harry before parting ways. They certainly wouldn't be sleeping in the same bed once he was back home. Or snogging whenever they liked. The thought made him pout.

His mental musings were interrupted by Slughorn who accosted him in the hallway. "Ah Mr Malfoy, just the man I've been looking for."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Professor Slughorn," he greeted amicably.

"Oh now. None of that, dear boy. It's Horace," Slughorn clucked. "You're hardly a student, after all."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You were looking for me?" he reminded the dithering professor.

"Ah yes, of course. Glad I caught you right before you took off. I'm actually in the process of considering your application - impressive NEWT scores by the way, best I've ever seen. Anyway, you'll have to submit an original paper on a subject of your choice. Bothersome business I know, but it's required for your application. Of course, I'll be mailing you the acceptance as soon as you're finished and you can start right away, but…"

Draco blinked rapidly, getting more confused by the second. "I'm sorry, I don't think I follow. My… application, did you say?"

"For the Research Assistant Program, of course." Slughorn replied. "Your fiancé dropped it off last night. Charming lad, Harry is. I've known him for  _years_. Have I congratulated you yet? Well of course, you have my fondest…"

"Harry put in an application for me?" Draco blurted. How had Harry even known that…

"Well, it certainly wasn't for him," Slughorn chuckled. "Marvellous boy but no talent for Potions. Pity. But he was  _most_  insistent that I consider you for the Program. Couldn't talk enough about your passion for the field. Now, about that paper, Mr Malfoy…"

Draco nodded blankly, completing tuning out the man's prattling. Harry had done this… for him. Hogwarts had one of the best research programs in the magical world. He hadn't even considered it, given his dismal luck with the internship. It was everything he could have hoped for and Harry had just  _given_  it to him. His chest fluttered almost painfully.

He mumbled a hasty goodbye to Slughorn, promising to send the paper in first thing next week. And then he took off, running full speed down the corridor to Harry.

* * *

 

They Flooed into Harry's flat, having bid McGonagall a brief but warm goodbye. The older witch had wished them her best and sent them on their way with a rare, fond hug. Harry stumbled and steadied himself while Draco landed on his feet, graceful as a cat. Grinning, he turned to the blond.

"Well it's not much but its home," he announced sheepishly. "Sorry about the mess. It's not like I have a house el -  **ack!** "

Harry staggered and sprawled as Draco all but tackled him, wrapping his skinny arms around his neck and welding their lips together. Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he flailed, and mercifully landed on the sofa with Draco on top of him. So this is what Draco felt like when he accosted him for a snog. Frankly, Harry couldn't see why he complained so much. It was fucking brilliant.

"What's… all this… about?" he managed to ask, between frantic kisses. Not that he was complaining at  _all_ , mind you. Draco halted his onslaught for a second, breaking away to look at Harry with dark, silver eyes. "Consider it a thank you," he said, arching against Harry and making him hiss. "For talking to Slughorn."

Harry's eyes glinted with understanding. "Found out about that, did you?" he grinned, wrapping a proprietary arm around Draco's waist and pushing their groins together. Draco whimpered in response, making his blood flare. "If this is the response I get, I'll make sure every sodding Potions Master in England has your résumé handy by next Tuesday."

Draco smirked. "One is enough, Potter," he drawled. His eyes softened as he regarded the man under him, the man who had done so much for him in such a short while. "Thank you," he whispered. "You didn't have to. But it's brilliant and I know the only reason I got it is because of you but it's…"

"Hey," Harry broke in softly, carding a hand through Draco's soft hair. "You deserve to be in that program. You're passionate and intelligent and while I don't completely understand  _why_ , you're mad about Potions. I'm just glad I could help." Draco flushed and buried his head in Harry's chest, making him chuckle. He tipped the blond's head back and smiled at him, eyes glinting with hidden mischief. "Now about the rest of my reward…"

Draco wasn't sure he could pull it off on a narrow couch. And yet, Harry surprised him once again. Quick as you please, he tipped them over so that Draco was under him. Harry growled and snaked a hand between their legs, cupping Draco's bits and squeezing lightly. The blond gasped and arched into him magnificently. "Brute," he panted, biting his lip.

Harry nearly came undone. With a snarl, he descended, intending to lick and kiss and suck at every inch of pretty, pale skin laid out under him. Draco moaned and his hands wound their way into his hair, clenching at it as Harry paused to suckle at his throat.

" _Harry_ ," Draco whispered urgently. "Harry, please…"

"Fuck" Harry groaned, wrestling with his shirt. He finally got the damn thing off and chucked it carelessly, immediately latching on to Draco's throat again. It was brilliant. It was spectacular. And he was finally going to shag his gorgeous…

"Harry James Potter! You better have a damn good excuse for what I just read in…  _Merlin's pants!_ "

Several things happened simultaneously. Draco went rigid as a board under him and then shoved him off. Harry yelped and fell on his arse. Ginny Weasley cowered in the corner, covering her eyes.

"I didn't see anything!" she announced, still shielding her eyes. "Nothing at  _all!_  Harry, put your shirt back on."

"Salazar's silk knickers! Ginny, what the hell?!" Harry growled, tugging his shirt on. Draco was gawking unabashedly at the woman and Harry swallowed as his eyes narrowed dangerously. Oh, this would not be good.

"Harry," he hissed. "What the  _hell_  is going on?"

"Um…" Well this was awkward. "Draco, you've met Ginny Weasley. Gin, this is Draco. My…"

"I  _know_  who she is!" Draco snapped, glaring at Ginny. " _Why_  is she in your apartment?"

That, Harry conceded was an excellent question. And it just so happened that he had several of his own. "How did you get in?" he asked Ginny.

"Your wards went up. I'm spelled in to them, remember?" she snapped at him, throwing Draco a dirty look. "I heard them adjust as soon as you got back."

"Why is  _she_  spelled in to your wards?!" Draco practically snarled, pushing angrily at Harry. His eyes roved the apartment, and he stopped and cocked his head at an ornate, heavy lion statuette that Harry had acquired… somewhere. He Vanished it at once in case Draco got any bright ideas. Then, he turned to face two people he was rather fond of and who looked like they wanted to slaughter him in equal measure.

"I want to talk to you in  _private_ ," Ginny gritted, looking about a hairs' breadth from throwing Bat Bogeys around.

"Whatever you want to say to  _my_  fiancé, you can damn well say it in front of me!" Draco snapped. Apparently, he had a point to prove because he marched up to Harry, grabbed him by the collar and smashed their lips together. Ginny  _shrieked_  and Harry floundered and flailed, sputtering into the kiss before finally managing to pull his jealous fiancé off him. "Okay, she gets it," he whispered, nipping affectionately at Draco's bottom lip. "I'm all yours."

"I'll brand you if I have to," he retorted. Harry grinned. He was pretty sure Draco wasn't joking. In the corner, Ginny cleared her throat meaningfully. She was not going to take no for an answer. Harry sighed.

"Just give me a minute, okay?" he murmured to Draco. The blond scowled and Harry gave him a pleading look. Draco sighed and nodded reluctantly. He shot Ginny an evil glare and then yanked at Harry's collar again, pressing their lips together for another kiss.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Ginny cried out. Draco broke away from Harry, gave her a smirk and then sauntered over to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Harry faced his fuming friend, the tense silence thickening around them by the second. "So I've been reading the  _Prophet_  these past few days," Ginny announced in that saccharine, honeyed tone that always preceded great misfortune and pain. Harry cringed as her eyes narrowed. "Guess what I learnt? Apparently, that my best friend is not only seeing Draco Malfoy - prat extraordinaire - but is  **engaged to him and** ** _then_** **skipped the bloody country!** "

"I can explain?"

"Can you? Can you  _really_?"

"Well…"

"Because I would love to hear it, Harry! Please do try to explain how you are not only  _engaged_ to that hellcat, but apparently you didn't see fit to tell me!"

"It's a long story," Harry mumbled. Ginny gave him the hands on her hips stance and glared him down. Harry cringed. "I'm sorry. It just happened so fast and, I was going to tell you! I  _will_ tell you. Just give me a little time to get Draco calmed down again."

Ginny gave him a rather impressive glower, before deciding that he'd had enough. "Dinner then" she declared. "We'll fix a date. You  _and_  Malfoy; I want the whole story. Every last detail."

"I promise," Harry declared fervently.

"Oh, and Ron and Hermione will be there," she smirked. "That's what you get for keeping secrets from me. If you thought I was bad, you're going to love Ron's reaction."

Harry groaned, but he supposed he deserved it. Ginny smiled and ruffled his hair - a peace offering. "You're happy?" she asked.

Harry hesitated but gave her a nod. "I am," he said quietly.

"Well then," Ginny shrugged. "I guess that's that. But don't think this is over, Harry. We're  _going_  to talk about this." She smiled at him. "Just not now. I'll see myself out." She gave him a wink as she left. "By the way, he's probably raving with jealousy right about now. If I were you, I'd be in there."

Harry chuckled as she left. She disappeared into the fireplace and he immediately bolted for his room. Draco was in his arms faster than he could blink. "Mine," he snapped, wrapping his legs around Harry and angling for a kiss. Harry grinned and collapsed on the bed, with his armful of writhing blond. And as Draco attacked his lips and neck and collarbone with unparalleled fervour, he resolved to have Ginny over more often.


	15. The Guilty Conscience of Harry Potter

The days passed in a blur of activity as Harry geared up for the first game of the season. He alternated every second of his day between gruelling practice, sleeping and shoving off reporters who accosted him for exclusive stories. Wood had been adamant that he get his head in the game, considering that they actually had a chance of making it to the Finals this season. So, Harry had fallen into practice with single-minded determination intent on acquiring the coveted Cup.

This left him with almost no free time to spend with Draco who by the way was not at  _all_  happy with this sudden change of circumstances. Of course, he had his own set of problems - working almost full time for the Hogwarts Program and decimating Howlers and assorted hate mail from the concerned public. The few times that he saw Harry, he was either too tired or too put off to make conversation. In fact, most times he wouldn't say anything at all. He would sulk in a corner when Harry visited, watching his fiancé read quietly for anything between ten to forty minutes. Then he would approach him and curl up on the man's chest, resuming his pouting. Harry would stroke his hair as he read, enjoying the semi comfortable silence until he got bored. Then he would snog Draco as if he'd been starving for him, not stopping until the blond was moaning and writhing. Lucius would make an appearance by this time and promptly kick him out, much to Draco's displeasure.

All in all, it wasn't so bad.

His day dreaming made him smile and the sudden blast of a loud whistle inches from his ear was a rather rude awakening.

"Fuck!" Harry swore, rubbing his abused ear and glaring at Wood. "What was that about?"

"You're not paying attention!" he claimed, gesturing wildly. "We have to go over the strategy pitch or we're going to lose against the Puddlemere Prats first game in the season! Now when you see the Snitch, I want you to…"

"Catch it?" Harry offered dryly.

"So you were listening. Brilliant! Now everyone get out there and give me a reason to break out the good Firewhisky tonight. Go Canons!"

Harry rolled his eyes and hoisted up his broom, following his whooping teammates out to the pitch. As always, the sight of the roaring crowd spilling over the stadium and the sea of flying banners made his blood pump and his head buzz with excitement. But a tug of nostalgia tempered his happiness. His lips tugged at the memory of that ridiculous match they'd had at Hogwarts. Jack's excitement and Billy Johnson's brazen flying and… and Draco laughing and taunting him with a smile on his lips and his graceful, easy flight and his sharp eye searching for the Snitch. It was the most fun he'd had in years.

Damn, he missed it. He missed  _him_.

"The Cup, Harry," Heidi whispered to him. "We actually have a shot at it."

Harry nodded. He couldn't explain the sudden coil of unease wrapping around his stomach.

"This is it, Harry," Heidi murmured again. "Everything we've always wanted."

Harry's eyes hardened. "Everything we've always wanted," he agreed. Heidi smiled and mounted her broom. He followed after her, trying to ignore the little voice inside his head that insisted that there was something else. Something important. And that he was in danger of losing it forever.

* * *

" **Twenty minutes!** " Oliver shrieked, grabbing the disgruntled Puddlemere Captain and swinging him around. "Twenty  _fucking_  minutes into the game! That's my boy! Eat your heart out, Holmes!"

"Oh, sod off!" Holmes snapped, shrugging him off and storming off the pitch. Oliver turned and flashed a billion galleon grin at Harry, who gave him a half-hearted smile. The Snitch fluttered petulantly in his fingers.

"Good game, Potter," Zabini smirked. "It's nice to have a little competition for once." He clapped Harry on the shoulder and in true sportsman spirit, congratulated the rest of the team before taking off after his sulking captain.

Harry was immediately surrounded by a whooping, victorious sea of orange. "Next time give the rest of us a chance to play," Heidi said, giving him a congratulatory hug. Harry returned the gesture, smiling and laughing with his team. They cheered and whooped and made absolute arses of themselves and Harry watched them, half amused and half embarrassed. Frankly, they were worse than the kids at Hogwarts. That thought dredged up some unwanted feelings again and he excused himself, making a break for the locker rooms.

He didn't even realize he had been running until he screeched to a halt and slumped against a bench, panting, He felt… sick. The broomstick felt heavy in his hand and he let it fall with a clatter. The Snitch was still buzzing in his fingers and in a vicious surge of emotion that he couldn't quite understand, he chucked it away. It buzzed away, glinting like a gold bird in the sky. He needed to see Draco. He had to see him…

"And the conquering hero returns with spoils of war.  _Marvellous_  game, Potter. Fabulous form if I do say so myself," a voice drawled, uncomfortably close to him.

Harry gnashed his teeth and prayed for patience. Couldn't he  _just_  catch a break? "Go away, Rita," he retorted, sounding as hollow as he felt.

"No need to be sullen, Potter. I am simply offering my congratulations," she crowed, sidling next to him. Her acid green robes made him feel like retching and her Quill poked his arm uncomfortably. She gave him a sharp grin that reminded him vividly of a vulture he had once seen on  _Animal Planet_. "And since I know how much you hate beating around the bush, let's just get to it. A quote for our readers, perhaps?"

"Talk to the Captain," Harry growled. He was in no mood for this. "Oliver makes the press appearances for the team, not me."

"Now don't be bashful, Potter. We both know that the public would  _much_  rather hear from you," she insisted, prodding him again with that blasted quill. "Tell me about your inspiration. If I may venture a guess it wouldn't be a certain blond, silver eyed devil that inspired those daring manoeuvres, would it?"

"Get out of my way!" Harry snarled. The force of his reaction seemed to shake Rita for a nano-second. Then her lips split in a shark like grin and she was back, hovering around him like a relentless mosquito. "Well, that's  _certainly_  not the reaction I expected, but do go on. This is writer's gold. Trouble in paradise, perhaps? Is Draco Malfoy's sordid past finally catching up to the two of you? Which reminds me, how exactly did an ex Death Eater manage to snare the Coveted Saviour of All Magical Kind? Or was it  _you_  who found yourself enamoured by his charms? I suppose  _spoils of war_  can be used in a several contexts, eh Potter? Did you perhaps…"

Harry had heard enough. He was shaking with rage and every poisoned word out of her mouth about Draco was spurring him to something drastic. He didn't even spare a thought for the repercussions as he turned and pointed his wand in her face. "Don't say another word," he intoned, his tone deathly quiet. "I mean it, Skeeter.  _One_  more misplaced word about my fiancé and you'll be spending the rest of your life in a glass jar. And I don't mean as the filthy dung beetle you are."

Rita lifted her chin, but he noted her hand tightening around the Quill. "I'm merely asking a question, Potter."

"No, you're making insinuations," Harry hissed. "Draco Malfoy is not a Death Eater. He is by far, the most brilliant, intelligent and upstanding person I have ever had the privilege of knowing and I will not have him slandered by the likes of  _you_. So crawl back in your little hole, Skeeter. And tell that rag you call a paper - Harry Potter does not stand for idle gossip about the man he loves. Now for the last time, get  _out_  of my face or I'll make you."

"Fine," she drawled, backing away. "You win, Potter. We'll do this again when you're less homicidal."

Harry's jaw was tight and he willed himself not to hex her in the back as she sauntered away. Wearily, he slumped to the ground and held his head in his hands. His words rattled in the confines of his frayed mind.

_Harry Potter does not stand for idle gossip about the man he loves._

The man he loves.

"Fuck," Harry whispered.

What had he  _done?_

* * *

 

He wasn't entirely aware of Flooing into Malfoy Manor in the dead of the night. Honestly, with the amount of alcohol in his system, he was surprised he hadn't ended up in France or something. But here he was, swaying and stumbling his way to Draco's room, as if it were second nature.

He felt sick to his stomach and guilty as fuck, to boot. And he half felt like he had no right to be here at all, but it was cold and lonely and he wanted to see Draco. To touch him and kiss him and to assure himself that he was still there. Like a zombie, he made his way up the staircase and to Draco's room, thankful that Lucius was nowhere in the vicinity.

To his credit, he made it to the door before stumbling. His head thunked against the wood as he fell and he was on his back, blinking blearily when Draco opened the door. The blond stared down at him, his beautiful mouth twisted in a smirk that was half amusement and half annoyance.

"Too much celebration, Potter?" he asked, kneeling down next to Harry. Harry smiled and trailed a hand through his hair. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled. He felt better. Draco was here.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Right, clearly too much. Come on then, let's get you inside before Father has an aneurism." He grabbed hold of Harry by his wrists and pulled him up, nearly stumbling as the taller man all but leaned into him. "Pretty Blondie," Harry cooed, wrapping his arms around him. Draco felt nice and warm against his chest and he didn't ever want to let go.

"Remind me to hex you for saying that in the morning," Draco drawled, tugging him inside. It was considerably difficult to shepherd Harry around, but he managed it. He pushed him gently on the bed and Harry landed with a muffled  _oof_.

"Oh, stop fussing," Draco snipped, tugging his shoes off. "Maybe tomorrow's hangover will teach you not to drink so much."

"We won the match," Harry felt obliged to explain. "I caught th' Snitch in twenty minutes."

"And I'm very proud of you," Draco chuckled, pressing a kiss to his head. "But look at the state you're in. Honestly Harry, sometimes you act like you're still fifteen."

"I missed you," Harry mumbled. He grabbed hold of Draco's arm and tugged. The blond careened into him with a surprised gasp, tumbling into Harry's chest. He scowled at Harry who blinked back in response. Draco's eyes softened.

"I missed you too, you absolute neanderthal," he chided, brushing Harry's hair back. "But you should know better than to get completely sloshed. Now come on, lift up your arms. I'm going to take your shirt off."

"Sorry, cutie. I'm taken. Engaged, actually," Harry retorted. Draco rolled his eyes and pulled the shirt off with a swift tug.

"Roll over," he ordered. Harry pouted. He wanted to look at Draco more, maybe call him pretty again. But the blond was insistent and with a little help, he rolled over on his stomach surrendering to his tender mercies. He tensed slightly, when Draco straddled his back. His long legs brushed Harry's sides and the Gryffindor's brow furrowed in confusion. What was he… then long, capable fingers traced his spine and Harry sighed. Draco kneaded his back, working diligently to soothe the tightened muscles. His movements were smooth and practiced and Harry found himself relaxing against the gentle pressure on his abused frame.

"Feel better?" Draco murmured softly. He was working on Harry's shoulder blades, soothing away the tension in his stressed, drawn muscles.

"Perfect," Harry moaned. "Can you go a little lower? Just a… oh  _yeah_. Right there."

Draco laughed and obliged him. Harry sighed in contentment and closed his eyes. "I figured you'd need this," the blond commented. "I read about your little standoff with Skeeter in the _Evening Prophet_. Did you really threaten to disembowel her if she spoke ill of me?"

Harry felt anger flare in his gut again. "She said you were spoils of war," he muttered.

Draco laughed again. "Well, that's certainly a creative way of looking at it. Can't say I'm completely opposed to the idea myself but…"

"Don't talk like that!" Harry growled, getting up abruptly. He tipped Draco over and prowled over him, glowering at the surprised blond. "Never talk like that," Harry repeated. His body was shaking and he felt like a hundred emotions were battling their way out of him right now…

"Harry?" Draco murmured tentatively, stroking his cheek.

"She can't talk about you like that," Harry declared. "No one can."

"Harry, it's okay. I don't care about…"

"It's  _not_  okay!" Harry burst out. "You're not something I acquired. You're beautiful and brilliant and you don't deserve to be spoken of that way. You deserve someone who takes care of you and puts up with your craziness and loves you! Without anycondition. Just… love."

Draco looked confused, and somewhat scared. His eyes were wide and silver and they seemed to burn a hole right through Harry. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he all but whispered. "I just… I can't…"

"Tell me," Draco replied quietly. "I'm here, Harry. I'll listen."

Harry felt his throat clench and his stomach twist. Guilt, the likes of which he had never imagined threatened to surge inside and choke the very life out of him. Draco was under him, his gaze reflecting iron clad trust and conviction. And he had failed him. He had betrayed this beautiful person. Bought his way into Draco's life for a shot at a cheap trophy. Used him. Deceived him. And what was worse, he couldn't even tell him. He couldn't face up to it, because the idea of losing Draco terrified him. Harry couldn't imagine a day without him, let alone a lifetime. And if he said anything at all, Draco would leave. His pride wouldn't stand for this. How had things become so fucked up? How had he allowed this to happen? Despair washed over him. All he had was lie after lie after lie. Draco deserved so much more. He deserved better than a fucking cheat who had…

"Harry, please," Draco sounded alarmed now, almost frantic. "You're scaring me. Just… just tell me what it is. I'll help you, Harry. I'll be here. Please, I… I love you, Harry."

Harry almost sobbed out aloud. He couldn't. Those words shattered the fragile semblance of courage that he had dredged up. His guilt and his pain and everything else couldn't measure up to losing Draco. Knife twisting in his gut, he choked back his tears and smiled down at his beautiful fiancé. "I love you too," he whispered. "I love you so much, Draco."

"Are you… is  _that_  what this is all about?" Draco asked, visibly relaxing.

Harry nodded, feeling like scum. Draco huffed and smacked his chest half-heartedly. "Idiot," he snapped. "You scared the life out of me!"

"I can't lose you," Harry mumbled against his cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," Draco murmured, wrapping his arms around him. "I admit I wasn't entirely happy with how things started out between us. But… but you've been wonderful, Harry. You've been kind and considerate and you… you take care of me. When I'm with you, I don't want anything to change ever. I  _love_  you."

He felt better. Better than he deserved, he knew. But Draco's fervent words were a balm to his wrecked conscience and he chose to be selfish just this once. "Let me stay," he pleaded. "I want to be next to you. Please, I can't… I can't go home right now."

"Hush," Draco murmured, pressing his lips to Harry's forehead. "No one is going to make you leave, Harry. I'm right here. Right here next to you. I'm yours forever, okay?"

Harry nodded numbly and Draco smiled. "Good. Now get some sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

And as he pulled Draco closer and curled into him, Harry did just that. Things would look better in the morning. He knew they would. He had Draco.


	16. The Wily Wager of Lucius Malfoy

Draco came to his next match. He sat in the stands and he put up with hisses of protest and clicking cameras and resentful mutterings. He ignored distasteful comments and cheered for Harry. It wasn't easy or pleasant but he did it. And Harry loved him even more for it, if such a thing was possible.

His eyes narrowed in on a glint of golden light at the end of the pitch. By pure instinct, he took off like a bolt of lightning, chasing it down. He could feel the Harpies Seekers' relentless pursuit and the crowd blurred around him. He had to catch the Snitch. Draco was out here putting up with shite for him. The least he could do was not let him down.

The Snitch hedged to the right in a flutter. His opponent saw it first and jagged across the pitch. With a howl of frustration, Harry gave chase. She was well ahead of him and his only hope was offense. Harry made up his mind. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

He swooped around until he was bearing to the left. The turbulence nearly threw him off balance but the decrease in drag enabled a much faster flight. She was inches away and just as her hand reached out to grab the snitch, he swooped above her and pulled off the twist. Her eyes widened in surprise as Harry almost but not quite knocked into her and she lurched in mid-air, barely steadying herself and keeping from falling. It was one millisecond of an advantage, and it was all he needed to snatch the Snitch right out of the air.

A perfectly executed Malfoy Manoeuvre.

The crowd howled and Harry raised his fist in triumph, bearing the Snitch. It was his. He swooped around the pitch, his eyes raking the crowd for the one person he wanted to see.

Even in the mass of thousands, Draco's blond hair was easily visible. Harry grinned and flew down to him, ignoring the referee's whistle. Draco laughed as he hovered above him, eyes shining with mirth and delight. "Tell me you didn't just do that," he managed, incredulity lacing his voice.

Harry grinned and shrugged in answer. "For you," he declared, presenting the snitch to Draco. The camera flashes around them almost blinded him and the crowd's disapproving rumble surged. For a second, Draco hesitated. He gazed up at Harry with doubt in his silver eyes, and Harry's jaw tightened. "They can all fuck off for all I care," he declared. "Every day with you is worth it."

Draco's brilliant smile was everything he could have ever hoped for. The blond took the Snitch and Harry grabbed his wrist, tugging him forward. "Let's give the bastards something to write about," he whispered against his lips.

Draco closed his eyes and melted into the kiss. A thousand cameras went off around them.

And Harry truly didn't give a fuck.

* * *

 

"I won't do it," Andromeda declared, lifting her chin stubbornly. Her entire body was rigid and her cheeks were tinted with a rosy blush. Her arms were crossed, giving her the look of something both alluring and vulnerable. Lucius liked it.

He smirked in an utterly unrepentant manner and waved  _The Prophet_  in her face. The image of Potter glued to his son's mouth - nauseating as it was - only served to prove his point. "We had a deal, my dear," he drawled. "Surely you don't mean to go back on it? Where is your sense of honour?"

"But…"

"But nothing, Andromeda. It was a most specific wager. You were utterly dismissive of my  _genius_." Andromeda responded with a rather unladylike snort which he chose to ignore. "Your exact words I believe were that this would  _blow up in my face_. Well, see for yourself. Draco is obviously happy and the marriage is secure. My… delicate engineering of circumstance has not left anyone worse for wear. I think it is time for you to bow down gracefully and accept defeat."

Andromeda glanced at  _The Prophet_  reluctantly. "They do seem happy," she admitted softly. Then recalling her predicament, she scowled at her smirking companion. "But that does not mean I am compelled to indulge your outrageous demands!"

"Fair is fair, my lady," Lucius smirked. "You lost the wager. Now pay your dues."

Andromeda flushed, utterly mortified. "Lucius,  _please!_  I… it's been so long. I haven't… not since Ted…"

Lucius' face softened and he held out a hand. "I'll take you through it," he promised. She hesitated and he felt compelled to voice a plea. "Please, Andromeda. I just want it so much." Those silver eyes seemed to look right through her. Andromeda teetered, before finally giving in. "You are a manipulative cad," she declared, placing a shaky hand in his large, firm one. The contact made her cheeks flare, but Lucius looked stoic and marble like as ever. Still, the warmth reached his eyes as he gazed at her.

"Thank you," he whispered gratefully. "Please, follow me."

Andromeda willed her shaking limbs to follow him. He led her to the centre of the almost bare room and she gasped softly. "I… I can't, Lucius. I…"

"It's alright," he soothed immediately. "I promise it will be wonderful. Please, come here."

She stepped closer to him. The scent of expensive cologne washed over her. Andromeda took a shuddering breath and placed a shaking hand on Lucius' shoulder. He sighed softly - almost in relief, it seemed - and placed a gentle hand on the small of her back. The warm weight settled her somewhat and she felt almost calm.

"Ready when you are," she whispered.

Lucius smiled and raised his wand. The music spell washed over the room and Andromeda sighed as the soothing melody of  _La Serenade_  wash over her. Lucius moved and she followed gracefully, melting into his larger frame as he led her with ease and precision. She laughed out as he executed a playful spin and twirled back in his arms gracefully.

"I can see why you missed ballroom dancing so much," she smiled as he turned her around gently and enveloped her in his arms. "You're brilliant."

"You make me brilliant," he replied softly. "And for that, I thank you." His fingers flexed against her back, as if he wanted to pull her closer. Andromeda smiled softly and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and leaning against his chest. She closed her eyes, basking in warm contentment as Lucius continued to sway her to the music.

Neither noticed two pairs of eyes, watching from the foyer with apparent amusement.

"Bit of a shock?" Harry enquired, not entirely able to read the blond's blank expression.

Draco scoffed. "It's a relief actually. They've been tip-toeing around each other for  _years_. Oh, remind me to talk to Blaise, will you? He owes me ten galleons."

Harry gave him a playful shove which Draco returned. As silently as they had entered, they padded away. Inside,  _La Serenade_  played on and Lucius Malfoy smiled as he held a wonderful woman in his arms once again.


	17. The Unexpected Twist of Fate

The Dinner, as Harry had started dubbing it in his head had seemed near impossible at first. Draco had kicked up a fuss of epic proportions of course, and had flat out refused to go if  _she_ would be there. It had taken the better part of an hour to convince him that Harry had no interest in Ginny Weasley save that of a friend.

"I see the way you talk," Draco grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. "All the inside jokes and the laughing and the flirting… and don't you tell me there's no flirting. I'm not blind, Potter. And the…"

"That's just how it is!" Harry squawked, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. "Look, Ginny is… we were together and I admit at one point, I couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. But that was a  _very_  long time ago," he added hurriedly as Draco growled. "She's my  _friend_  and my friends are important to me. You have to understand that."

"Just a friend?" Draco had asked suspiciously.

"Just a friend," Harry grinned, kissing his forehead. "Think of her as my Zabini."

He hadn't expected Draco's eyes to light up with intent speculation. "She is, isn't she?"

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Nothing," Draco replied, a slow grin breaking out on his pale face. "I just had an idea. Will you excuse me? I need to send an owl…"

* * *

 

Soon, they were seated in an up end Lounge on the ritzy side of Diagon Alley. Draco had chosen the location and Harry was thankful. The décor was sophisticated but intimate. And security was tight so reporters couldn't bother them. That was where his happiness ended though.

Hermione sat across from them, twirling a strand of hair uncomfortably in her fingers. Now and then, she gave them polite smiles, but mostly her eyes drifted to Draco eyeing him quizzically. Ron just looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Ginny sat beside Draco, apparently trying to smoke her lungs out. At least she was valiantly trying to make conversation and even managed to engage Draco once in a while. Harry could have kissed her.

"Excuse me," Ron broke in, apparently unable to take it. "Just checking, but are we seriously going to sit here all night and  _not_  talk about the erumpent in the room?"

"Excellent point, brother mine. There are questions that need answering," Ginny quipped, turning to Harry and Draco. "Like, where's this hot date of mine you promised? Or am I going to have to ask that fine, young fellow at the bar if he likes it on the rocks?"

Harry and Hermione chuckled and even Draco let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Ginny!" Ron yelped, covering his ears. "I swear to Merlin, we're getting you married next!"

"Sod off, Ronniekins," she smirked, releasing a spire of smoke. "Nobody's taking  _me_  down without a fight."

"Sound familiar, Draco?" a voice drawled behind them. The small gathering turned in unison, watching as a suave, well-dressed man approached them.

"You're late, you heathen," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow. "Your date was about to go bartender hunting."

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" Blaise replied, giving Ginny an appreciative once over. "Hello, Red."

The young witch gave him a challenging look in return and flicked her cigarette. "Zabini. Just passing through, she asked, hopefully?"

Blaise's eyes lit up in unmistakable interest and he immediately moved over to where she was sitting. "Not anymore, he declared ardently. Budge over, princess."

"Make yourself at home," Ginny replied blithely. She got up and slipped past him effortlessly. " _I_  want to dance. Care to escort a lady to the floor, handsome?"

Draco blinked in surprise as he realized she was talking to him. Blaise glared at him as if it was  _his_  fault and Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd be delighted," he drawled, taking her arm and leading her away.

Blaise slid in next to Harry, watching the retreating witch with an interest just bordering on this side of hungry. "Firefly," he drawled, half to himself.

"Down, boy," Harry intoned dryly. Blaise grinned at him and ordered a drink. "So Weasley, Granger - make any new kids lately?"

* * *

 

"So you and Harry," Ginny said, as he swirled around with her. She was light and dainty in his arms and moved with a natural grace. He could see how Harry had fallen hard for her. Their easy relationship still made him somewhat nervous, but he was slowly coming to the grudging conclusion that he had nothing to fear from this young woman. She seemed genuinely concerned for Harry's well-being. But she had also gone out of her way to make him feel welcome in their midst. He found he rather liked her flippant manners and easy charm. "What about us?" he asked.

"I'm happy for you," she replied. "I think you're good for him."

"Thanks," he replied skeptically. He didn't really agree. Harry was happy with him, but it didn't mean he was  _good_  for him. The Press, for one thing had been horrible. Harry had faced a lot of nasty commentary in the past, but nothing came close to the catastrophe their engagement had wrecked. And he admitted that sometimes he feared it would be too much for both of them to handle.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Not really."

"You should. He smiles more with you. He talks and laughs. And it feels like he's finally going after the things that make him happy. He's better and apparently that's all on you."

Draco smiled at her, feeling genuinely grateful. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Of course if you hurt him, I'll be toasting your bollocks on an open flame and serving them with French vinaigrette."

He rolled his eyes. "Charming. And no, I don't plan to hurt him. He's… been good for me too."

Ginny grinned. "Brilliant. Now dip me. And make sure Zabini sees."

Draco grinned and obliged. Her laughter echoed in the room and from the corner of his eye, he saw Harry grinning at them. Blaise however, was marching up to them with a determined tic in his jaw.

"My turn, Blondie," he groused, disengaging Draco easily and sweeping the petite girl up. "Go dance with your fiance for a while."

Draco returned Ginny's mischievous wink and backed away, giving them space to twirl away. He turned, nearly running into Harry as he did. He looked up into brilliant green eyes and grinned.

"One of these days Potter, I  _will_  catch you sneaking up on me."

"Keep telling yourself that," Harry retorted. His hand stroked Draco's hip tentatively. "Dance with me?" he whispered.

And Draco did.

* * *

 

Harry leaned on a lamppost in the Alley, trying to collect his thoughts. It was quiet and he could hear faint laughter inside. He had excused himself for a few minutes. Draco and Hermione were managing a tentative if slightly stilted conversation and Ron was still sulking, but things could certainly be worse.

He just wished he could get rid of this gnawing…  _feeling_  inside of him. Guilt clawed at him constantly, making every minute with Draco torture. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Every day, he was lying to Draco and it was playing havoc on his conscience. How had he become this person? How had…

"Knut for your thoughts?" Ginny said, slipping beside him.

Harry smiled at her. "Tired of dancing?"

She lit a cigarette in response and Harry rolled his eyes. "What's your excuse?" she asked.

"I just… just wanted a little space for a while."

"Space," she repeated ominously. "There's a loaded word."

"No. It's nothing. I'm… I just…"

"Harry." She frowned and put a firm hand on his shoulder. "I asked you before, and I'm asking you again. What aren't you telling me?"

Harry shrugged helplessly. He felt completely lost. Ginny's eyes sparked with realization. "There's something," she asked quietly. "Tell me and I'll try to help."

Harry gave her a beseeching look, pleading with her not to judge him. She nodded firmly, and her grip tightened reassuringly. Harry took a deep breath. "Okay," he mumbled. "Remember when I…"

"Salazar's Slimy Serpent! Is everyone out to steal my date?"

Harry's heart sank as Blaise marched over to them, giving Ginny a cheeky wink. She huffed. "Is there no escaping you?" she asked dryly.

"Said the firefly to the spider," he drawled. But there was an edge in that easy tone and Harry recognized the sharp glint in the man's gaze. Blaise gave him a hard look before turning his attention over to Ginny again. "So how about we say our goodbyes to this sorry lot and I'll step into your parlour?"

"In your dreams, Zabini," she replied.

"Suit yourself. By the way," His wrist flicked - as swift as a garden snake - and he plucked the cigarette from her lips. "Smoking is bad for you, Red."

Ginny huffed and stomped back inside. Zabini watched her leave, making sure she was well out of sight before turning to Harry. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, his tone calm and measured.

Harry sneered at him. "What do you think, Zabini?"

"I'll venture a guess and say that your original plans of courting Draco for the Cup have undergone a drastic re-design."

Harry glared at him, but said nothing. Zabini tutted and studied his fingernails. "Of course they have. And let's see if I have this right. I'll wager that right about now, your blasted moral compass is doing a fantastic impression of the Wronski Feint. So - and this is the fun part Potter -  _your_  master plan is to confess to your dishonour and…hmm… just help me out here. Exactly what's going to happen after that?"

Harry wrenched his hair in frustration. "I don't know!" he spat. "I don't know and I don't care! I can't live with this anymore. Every time I look at him, every time he smiles at me I feel like… like… I can't do it anymore. I have to tell him. I have to make him see that…"

Zabini's bark of laughter cut him off. "See what? That the only thing you saw in him was a passport to your own ambition? That he doesn't mean anything to you except an easy ticket to the Big Leagues? That all he ever meant to you was…"

"That's not true!" Harry shouted, clenching at his wand. His finger nails were digging into his palm, drawing blood.

"Draco won't see it like that!" Zabini snapped back. "When he hears that… when you  _tell_  him that you bought your way into his life for a couple broomsticks and a shiny new uniform, it's going to crush him! He'll break, Potter! Do you understand that? Is that what you want?"

"No," Harry choked out. He was shaking like a leaf at the very thought of it. "I love him," he whispered.

"Then be a man and carry your own damn burden," Zabini replied quietly. " _You_  did this. He shouldn't have to suffer." He brushed past Harry and walked away, leaving him in the darkness.

Harry took a couple of deep, painful breaths - trying to calm his speeding heartbeat. Zabini was right. This was his burden and he had no right to hurt Draco to ease his own guilt.

But that didn't mean he couldn't set things right, did it? With a sigh, he gathered himself and followed Zabini back inside.

He didn't notice the innocuous looking beetle perched on the window ledge behind him. Nor did he see the beetle scurry off into an alley and transform into a reedy, bespectacled woman with a grin the size of New Hampshire.

"Got you, Potter," she whispered gleefully.


	18. The Revelation of Rita Skeeter

Lucius sighed as he heard the door of his study slam open. Honestly, Draco was a menace these days. Sometimes, he missed the good old days when he would stomp in here to scream at Lucius. Now he just barged in and interrupted his father's daily musings to prattle about the latest, amazing thing Potter had done. Lucius however was  _working_ , and he was not in the mood to sing praises of Potter the Magnificent.

"Draco, for the last time," he snapped. "I am happy for you - ecstatic, I assure you - but you are not to waltz in here unannounced and disrupt my… Mr Potter." Lucius stared at his intruder in mild surprise. The boy looked harried and anxious. He was even scruffier than usual and had clearly not slept. Lucius' sense of foreboding intensified.

"I won't take up too much of your time," Potter said. "I just came by to give you this." Lucius frowned but accepted the piece of paper from Potter. He glanced through it and took a minute to school his expression. "What's this?" he asked finally.

"I'm returning your money," Potter replied quietly.

"Mr Potter, we had a deal. If you think…"

"You misunderstand me, Lucius. I'm not going back on my word. I'm just returning your money."

"But your team… surely you…"

"I'll fund the Canons," Potter replied, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "My parents planned their fortune well. I have enough to see the team through, at least for this season. And a win should bring in more sponsors so…"

"Mr Potter, forgive me for interrupting," Lucius managed. His head was reeling. Why would the boy  _do_  this? "If you recall, I have seen your bank accounts in the past. This…" he gestured vaguely at the document "is roughly seventy percent of everything you own."

"I know."

"I'm afraid I don't understand. You don't have to do this. I have every intention of fulfilling our terms if that's what…"

"I love your son."

Lucius stopped talking. Potter's eyes were soft but his voice was calm and determined. He stood proudly before Lucius and spoke like a man who knew what he was doing. "He means everything to me. I can't do this to him."

"Mr Potter…"

"Please. Just take it. If there's anything you want to give me at all, let it be your blessing."

There was nothing for it. Lucius nodded slowly and folded the cheque, placing it in his desk. Potter visibly relaxed and as much as he hated to admit it, Lucius' respect for the younger man increased tenfold. He had chosen well, indeed. "You have it," he said finally. "Both of you."

"Thank you," Potter smiled. "I…"

He was cut off by an elf bolting into the office. "Master," it squeaked. "The paper, if it pleases you sir."

Lucius sighed and waved the elf off, putting the  _Prophet_  on his desk and giving it a cursory look. "More news about you," he drawled, making Potter chuckle. "That Skeeter woman really earns her pay with…" Lucius trailed off, staring at the headlines.

_The Potter Malfoy Saga: All Secrets Finally Revealed!_

"What on earth…"

Lucius snatched it up again and scanned the top story.

Oh no. Oh Merlin,  _no_.

How had they even…

Potter seemed to have caught on that something was amiss. He grabbed the paper and skimmed through it. By the time he was finished, he was pale and trembling. "Shite," he whispered.

"They have no evidence," Lucius said firmly. "Nothing to prove it. I'll owl now and have a retraction printed by the evening. We'll demand a public apology and…"

"It doesn't matter," Potter said in a hollow voice. He looked stricken. "He'll know."

"Harry…"

"I have to go see him. I… I have to…"

"Wait, boy! Now is not the time to approach him. He'll… Potter!"

But the boy was already running full speed up the staircase. Lucius heard his frantic footsteps thudding against the carpet.

This was bad. Draco was going to…

Lucius shook his head. Draco could wait. Perhaps, Potter would be able to reason with him. The papers wouldn't. Now was the time for damage control. Steeling himself, he sat himself down to write out an owl to his lawyer.

 _The Prophet_  wouldn't know what hit them.

* * *

 

Harry flew up the staircase, nearly wrenching his ankle in the process. He ignored the stabbing pain and threw Draco's door open.

Draco was sitting on his bed, staring at the floor.  _The Prophet_  was limp in his fingers.

Harry's heart sank. His knees were weak and shaking. His fiancé looked up at him with hollow eyes. He had never felt so wretched.

"Draco…"

 _"All secrets to the inexplicable Potter Malfoy courtship have finally seen the light of day,"_ Draco chanted tonelessly, his eyes not wavering from Harry's. They were bloodshot and tore right through him like a knife.  _"Sources and ceaseless investigations from our intrepid reporters have confirmed that everyone's favourite Quidditch team - the Chudley Canons - received a sizeable donation from one Lucius Malfoy earlier this year, propelling them into the season finals. As our readers will no doubt recall, Harry James Potter…"_

"Draco, stop. Please…"

 _"…Harry James_ _ **Potter**_ _,"_  Draco cut in forcefully, his voice rising above Harry's plea.  _"…plays Seeker for said Canons - and is presently engaged to Malfoy's son and heir to the fortune, Draco Abraxas Malfoy. Coincidence? We, at the Prophet think not. The real questions still remain. Has our Saviour been bought? Have the Malfoys finally paid their way out of notoriety with a hundred thousand galleons? And has Draco Malfoy succeeded in forging an alliance…"_

"Stop it," Harry whispered. "Draco, stop.  _Please_  stop!"

_"An alliance that is for all practical purposes a business arrangement for his own…"_

**"Incendio!"**

Harry watched  _The Prophet_  catch fire in Draco's hands. The paper frizzled and crackled, burning away the hateful, horrible words. Draco held on, watching with a detached fascination as the flames licked at his fingers. Harry couldn't stand it. He reached out to forcibly wrench it away. The sting of fire against his bare fingers made him gasp and his eyes water and he threw the horrible thing away, as far away as he could manage. Draco followed the movement with his eyes, watching dispassionately as it withered away to ash.

"Draco," Harry whispered, kneeling next to him and placing his hands on Draco's knees. He would beg. He would grovel if he had to…

Draco turned to look at him, and his eyes held the stillness of blank granite. He held Harry's own tearing eyes for what felt like hours. "Tell me it's a lie and I'll believe you," he said quietly. Harry clenched his fists and willed himself not to break down. The wavering, pleading note of Draco's voice nearly killed him inside. "Tell me it's a lie, Harry. Say it now and I'll believe you, no matter what."

Harry choked down a sob. "I can't," he replied, hating himself for it. What had he  _done?_

Draco started trembling under his hands. He shuddered and pushed Harry's hands away as if unable to stand his touch any longer. Harry watched helplessly as he stood abruptly and retreated to the far edge of the room. Harry stayed where he was, watching the man he loved turn his back on him. Draco stared out the window Harry had once climbed in through, so long ago. His slender frame trembled violently.

"How long were you planning to pull one over me?" he asked. "For the rest of my life? Until you won the Cup?" He shook his head and laughed. It sounded choked and mildly hysterical. "Actually don't answer that. I don't know which answer is worse."

"No," Harry managed, shaking his head frantically. "I wasn't. I… I wanted to tell you, Draco. It's not…"

"More lies, Harry?" Draco asked dully. "I suppose that's fair. It's what my father paid for, isn't it?"

"Stop talking like this!" Harry nearly screamed. "Please, just… just look at me."

With shaking legs, he approached the blond and touched his shoulder. Draco yielded stiffly, turning around to face him. Harry suspected that if he could have, he would have pushed him off, hit him maybe. But all the fight had gone. He had  _broken_  Draco. The thought shattered him and tears streamed down his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, tracing Draco's pale features. "I'm so sorry."

"Get out."

"Draco, no! Please, let me fix this. I  _love_  you. I…"

" _Don't_  say that," Draco pleaded in a shattered whisper. A single tear trickled down his face, tracing Harry's thumb. It burned. In that moment, Harry knew he would have done  _anything_  to take Draco's pain away. But he couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"Draco, I…"

"Get out, Harry. And don't come back. There's nothing more for you here."

He pushed him off and started walking away. "Draco, please…" Harry whispered. The blond halted and for a split second Harry hoped, he  _prayed_  that Draco would look back at him. He didn't.

"Good luck in the Finals, Potter," he said. His voice was cold, hard - devoid of any emotion. Not even contempt. Harry's shoulder's sagged in despair. He sank to the floor and the quiet click of the door closing shattered whatever was left of his heart.

* * *

 

Lucius approached his late wife's room with a heavy heart. This room held so many memories. Echoes of a wonderful life that were almost too painful to relive. His heart had healed after her passing - the process painfully slow. But Draco's… perhaps that's why he always sought out this place in his darkest hours.

He pushed the mahogany door open and cast a faint  _Lumos_. Draco's blond hair gleamed in the light, as he sat hunched up on the floor. His head was bowed and his legs were tucked against his chest. He looked wrecked. Lucius' only consolation was that he seemed to be faring better than Potter. That boy had been a shadow of himself by the time Lucius had finally convinced him to leave. Potter had looked so shattered that he had forgotten himself for a moment and clasped his shoulder in a gesture of sympathy. Potter either hadn't or wouldn't notice. He walked away like an Inferius.

For now however, Lucius had his son to think of. "She would probably hex me if she were here today," he said. Draco started and looked up at him; not bothering to hide the tear stains against his pale cheeks. Lucius' heart clenched. "If you wish, you may certainly do so," he offered.

"Leave, Father."

He had never been the best parent. He had neglected Draco, chastising and criticising him at every step in his intent to discipline, and left the caring and coddling completely to Narcissa. He wasn't good at this and he half wished he could approach Andromeda for help. She had flat out refused and wasn't exactly speaking to him at the moment. So he was on his own.

However, doing as Draco asked was out of the question. He needed a parent's love and his mother wasn't here, no matter how much he wished she was.

Lucius would simply have to do.

He sat down on the floor next to Draco, absently wishing that the boy had chosen the bed to wallow in his grief. He seemed to have no intention of moving though, so Lucius sucked it up and stayed there with him.

"Why?" It seemed like ages had passed when Draco finally spoke.

"Because I was worried about you," Lucius replied. "You were unhappy and alone. And I thought Potter…"

"You paid Potter."

"That's really a very crass way of putting things but essentially, yes."

Draco turned his head and rested it on his knees, staring at him. Lucius met the gaze as steadily as he could. "Are you really that sick of me, Father?" he asked quietly. "You had to pay someone to take me off your hands?"

"Draco!" He couldn't help the shock in his tone. "How can you suggest such a thing?" Hesitantly, he reached out and carded a hand through his son's hair. Narcissa had always done it when he was upset. "You are my  _son_. My one and only child. And I haven't said as much but I suppose I always thought you knew. I have loved you since the first time I saw you in your mother's arms."

"Then  _why_ , Father?" he whispered brokenly. "Why did you…"

"I can only offer you my reasoning, Draco. And my most sincere apologies. I am sorry, so deeply sorry for deceiving you. I did so with the best intentions and I hope that someday, that will be enough for you to forgive me."

Draco didn't reply. He let out a soft sigh and went back to staring at the wall. Lucius accompanied him in silence, until he felt compelled to say one last thing.

"I will however, not apologize for choosing Potter."

Draco stiffened and dug his nails deep into his shins. "You should," he said shakily.

"He loves you, Draco. He always has, though I suspect he didn't even know it at first - fool that he is. I saw it in his eyes even before I ever approached him. Do you perhaps, remember the time you went out with Roland Blake? The insignificant whelp tried to attack you and Potter defended you…"

Draco's head whipped back towards him. "How do you know about…"

"I'm your father, I know everything," Lucius informed him dismissively. "Anyway, one of those buzzards at the  _Prophet_  took a picture of you. I… acquired it and I saw for myself, the way Potter looked when he thought you were in danger. He looked like he would snap Blake like a twig if he so much as touched you. Do you remember that?"

By the sudden trembling of Draco's frame, it was clear that he did. "I don't want to talk about this…" he whispered.

"Hush, Draco. There are things I need to tell you, if only for my sake. I need you to understand that it was that look on Harry Potter's face, that determination to protect you that steered my judgement. If I had had any doubt in my mind that the boy would allow you to come to any harm, I would have rejected him in an instant. But he  _has_  protected you. He has cared for you. And despite what you may think, he has loved you."

"Stop it," Draco whispered. "I don't want to hear this."

"Draco," Lucius chided gently. He put an arm around his son's shoulders, allowing him to lean against him. "He returned the money."

Draco hissed as if in pain and hid in his shoulder. "That's not true."

"I wouldn't lie to you. Not now. He returned every last Knut I gave him, and he did it without a second thought. The truth is that he couldn't stand lying to you anymore. It is perhaps my greatest failure but I will admit it - Harry Potter has held you in greater esteem than your own father."

"He lied to me."

"Yes, he did. But he has also loved you. He is as broken without you as you are without him. And…"

"Stop," Draco demanded, a little frantically. "Please, Father. I… I don't want to hear anymore."

Lucius sighed. "Very well, son. We will speak no more of it."

Draco nodded and settled down against his arm. "I'm leaving tomorrow," he said. "I need to get away."

Lucius frowned. "Where will you go?"

"I have a place. I just want to… be alone for a while. Take my mind of everything."

Lucius nodded in understanding. "I won't stop you. However, I insist you tell me where it is you plan to go."

Draco met his eyes steadily. "If I do, will you tell Potter? Will you send him after me again?"

Lucius had half a mind to protest, but it didn't seem like anything would sway Draco. He felt a brief stab of pity for Potter and then shook his head. "On my honour as a Malfoy, he won't find out from me."

"Thank you," Draco whispered, leaning against him again. Lucius sighed at the warm weight against his own sturdy frame. He felt… content, despite everything. His son was here and safe. And he would heal with time. Draco was strong.

"I love you, Father."

Lucius closed his eyes, willing away the stinging prickle of tears. "I love you too, my son."

And then there was silence.

 


	19. The Light at the End of the Tunnel

**One month later…**

The alarm rang insistently, heralding another day. Its rising shriek was pure agony. Harry slammed it with his fist and trudged out of bed, not really caring if the stupid thing was broken or not. It wasn't like he was going anywhere.

Shaking himself awake, he dragged himself to his table to sort his mail.

Bill. Bill. Letter  _from_  Bill. Howler from Oliver.

Harry sighed. Might as well get it over with…

**"POTTER! GET YOUR ARSE TO PRACTICE NOW! I DON'T CARE IF YOU OWN THE TEAM NOW, YOU WILL SHOW UP TO PRACTICE OR MERLIN HELP ME, I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND… AND DO** **_SOMETHING!_ ** **BLOODY HELL, HOW CAN YOU…"**

Harry  _Incendioed_  the shrieking thing carelessly, cutting off Oliver's rampage. He knew bloody well that Harry wasn't coming in to practice. As far as he had heard, Oliver was scouting for new Seekers every day. Harry didn't care. Quidditch just wasn't what it used to be. Nothing was.

He sorted through the rest of the pile. A note from Ginny reminding him to shower. Typical. Ron sent a letter and a fruit basket, for Merlin's sake. Nothing from Hermione.

Nothing from Draco.

Harry slumped down in a chair and tried to will away the stab of pain in his chest. He missed him so much. It was all he could do not to break down and sob like a child.

Draco had disappeared into thin air. Harry had been relentless in his pursuit. After his owls and gone unanswered, he Flooed to the Manor every day. Lucius never stopped him. He simply explained - in an uncharacteristically gentle tone - that Draco wasn't there and he couldn't tell Harry where he was. Not if he wished to hear from his only son again. Harry understood, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Andromeda hadn't been any more forthcoming. She had been positively frosty to Harry at first, holding him completely responsible for Draco's pain. But as the days went by, Harry's relentless visits to the Manor and his adamant refusal to give up on Draco softened her up. She wouldn't tell him where he was, but the last time he was there she had greeted him a sympathetic, motherly embrace. "He left this behind," she had said, gently thrusting a package in his hands. "Perhaps you should have it. I don't think he'd mind."

It was the novel Draco had been reading when they had gone to Hogwarts together. Harry had never actually read the thing. His only interest had been to nick it from Draco when he was deeply immersed and watching him pout. He almost laughed out when he read the title.  _The Taming of the Shrew_. Talk about irony. The book hadn't left his bedside since.

He didn't know how long he sat there, wallowing in his own grief. A sharp tap to his shoulder brought him back to reality. Hermione stood in front of him, hands on her hips. "Honestly Harry," she scolded. "Didn't you even hear your own Floo go off? I could have been a serial killer or something!"

He managed a weak chuckle. "Yes, because I certainly have no experience with those," he retorted.

She rolled her eyes and sat next to him. "At least you haven't lost your sense of humour," she smiled.

"No. Just everything else."

Hermione bit her lip in sympathy. She took a deep breath and Harry sighed, recognizing the ominous beginning of The Lecture. "Harry," she began in true form. "This… this can't go on. I know you're devastated. We all feel for you. But you have to start putting your life back together."

"I can't," he replied dully.

"Yes, you can!" she snapped. "What is wrong with you? Things happen, Harry. Life goes on. And… surely you can see Draco's point of view. It's obvious he needs some time after you… after what…"

"After what I did to him?"

"I didn't say that," she protested. "I'm just saying that Draco is trying to move on. And you should too."

"I can't, okay?!" he snapped, glaring at her. "I don't think you've noticed Hermione, but I've kind of fucked up here. I was happy. For four months, everything was  _brilliant_. And then it turned on me and I lost the one person I couldn't do without. You think I don't know he's gone? He's not coming back, I get that! But I am not going to stop looking. I am  _not_  going to stop trying to find him because it's all I've got. So please, as my friend I'm asking you for this. Don't take it away from me."

Hermione was silent as a mouse as he railed, and when he finished and slumped against the table, shaking and shuddering she rubbed his back soothingly. "Harry," she whispered, and he thought he heard tears in her voice. "My poor Harry…"

He let her comfort him for a while. It felt good and when he was done, he felt a little better. Not much, but at least he had control. Hermione sat with him in stoic silence. "You're not going to stop, are you?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. He couldn't.

"Well then," she sighed. "I…probably shouldn't give you any more ammo for a mental breakdown but… Merlin, Ron would kill me…"

"What?" Harry demanded, sitting up. He felt more alert than he had in days. "Do you… do you know where he is?"

"Harry…"

"Hermione, please!" he sounded shrill and frantic and he couldn't manage to keep the hysterical, pleading note out of his voice. "You know, don't you? You do…"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "But I know someone who does."

* * *

 

"Ginny! Open this damn door!"

Ginny blinked at the sudden commotion before recognizing the voice. She threw the book she was reading at a wall and rushed to the door, swinging it open. Harry stood before her, panting and holding his side. "Why can't you just get a damn Floo?" he demanded.

"Harry!" she shrieked, plastering herself against him. "You're here! Oh Harry, I've been so worried! You…"

"Is Zabini around?"

Ginny immediately stilled and stepped away. Her face was guarded and she bit her lip uncertainly. "No," she supplied. Harry's face fell and she sighed. "He'll be back in ten. He went out shopping."

"Zabini went out shopping," Harry echoed, following her in. "Exactly how long have you been living together?"

Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably. "Two weeks," she explained with a light blush. "It happened really fast. I… didn't want to tell you because of… well, you know."

"It's okay," he grinned. "Get a Floo and I'll burst in unannounced when you're snogging on the couch. You know, return the favour and all."

She stared at him before bursting into giggles. "There's my favourite prat," she murmured, ruffling his hair fondly. Harry smiled in response. She leaned against the kitchen counter and fiddled with a coffee cup. "I think I know why you're here."

"I need to talk to him," Harry said. "He might know something."

"Harry…"

"Salazar's silk knickers, woman! You and your damn muggle supermarkets! They didn't have your brand of olive oil so I just got all of them. Thank your stars you're so damn pretty or I'd…"

Zabini trailed off his rant as he barged into the kitchen and caught sight of Harry. He immediately screeched to a halt and dropped his bags, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Now Blaise," Ginny said tentatively, slipping in between them. "Stay calm, okay? Harry just…"

Blaise wasn't interested. He lifted her up effortlessly and deposited her safely on the side, before taking two strides towards Harry and slamming his fist in his jaw. Harry's world exploded in pain and he collapsed to the floor, only vaguely aware of Ginny's outraged shriek.

"Blaise!" she screeched, hitting his chest. "You stupid, brainless  **lug!**  He's been through enough without all that!"

"It's okay," Harry muttered, getting up. Merlin, it hurt. "I deserved that."

"What you deserve is a  _Crucio_  in the bollocks," Blaise snapped at him. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

Ginny went vermilion. "First of all, it's  _our_  house. And secondly, he's  _my_  friend and he's welcome here!"

"Fine!" Blaise snapped. "Then I'll leave!"

"Zabini, wait!" Harry managed, as he watched him storm off. Blaise halted and turned around. The easy, cheerful man Harry had come to know had been replaced by something fearsome and protective. He glared at Harry, anger radiating from his lean, tall frame. "I'm not letting you near him again," he declared. "I told you to be careful! I warned you! You have  _no_  idea what it did to him. That's my best friend, Potter! And you nearly shattered him."

"I know," Harry murmured, feeling tears prick his eyes again.

"It's been hell, I hope you know," Zabini carried on. "He was heart-broken. And then he found out that  _I_  knew and he wouldn't talk to me either! Me! We've been mates for decades! He's been gone for a month…."

"And seven days," Harry felt compelled to add.

Zabini glared at him. "I didn't know where he was until last week if that's what you're thinking. He sent me an owl out of the blue. Said he missed me. And that he didn't want to see me yet but he wanted to catch up anyway. So if you think I'm going to tell you where he is and have him disappear  _again_ , you better…"

"Is he okay?" Harry asked softly. Zabini halted his tirade for a second. His eyes reflected surprise and then he sighed. "Mostly," he offered. "He's getting there."

"Does he ask about me?" He felt Ginny's soothing hand on his shoulder.

"No!" Zabini snapped. "Well… not always. He's mentioned you."

"Does he still…"

"I'm not telling you anything, Potter. He doesn't need you. That's all you need to know."

Ginny snorted and he scowled at her. She glared back defiantly. Blaise shook his head and turned back to Harry. "I like you, Potter. Nobody wanted the two of you to work out more than me. But I'm not going to help you wreck him again."

Harry nodded. "I understand," he replied, feeling hollow inside. "Thanks for your time."

"Harry, where are you going?" Ginny demanded.

"To the Manor," he replied with a shrug.

"Why?" Ginny demanded.

"Lucius won't help you either," Zabini pointed out.

"I don't care," Harry shrugged. "I won't stop looking. You can't take that away from me," he added looking at Zabini.

The man gaped at him. Then as if realizing what he was doing, he shook his head and sneered. "You'll have to stop someday," he said. "You can't hang on forever, Potter."

"Watch me." He wasn't trying to pick a fight. He was just so tired of being turned down. But he wasn't going to give up. He'd chased Draco for as long as he could remember. He'd do it for the rest of his life. He'd do it all over in a heartbeat…

"Potter…"

Harry turned back. Zabini was regarding him with cool, speculative eyes. Harry wanted to tell him to fuck off. But this wasn't Blaise's fault. And it didn't really matter. The Italian continued to stare at him, like a miner searching for diamonds in the rocks. He groaned and ran his hands through his curly hair. "Merlin, he is going to  _hate_  me forever…"

Harry's heart surged. "Are you…"

"Look, you can't just walk over to him and beg his forgiveness, okay? He's a Slytherin. He'll want more than promises and pretty words. So if you're going to go after him, give him something to prove that he means more to you than anything else."

"Zabini, I…"

"That's Phase One, Potter. There's a Phase Two and Three. We've done this before, remember?"

Harry did and he smiled. Zabini ignored him, continuing his scheming and plotting, pacing across the kitchen floor.

"Phase Two, take him by surprise. That works well for you apparently, so we'll stick to the classics."

Harry nodded. "What's Phase Three?"

Zabini looked at him seriously. "You absolutely never and I mean  _never_  heard any of this from me."

Ginny laughed and Harry grinned. "You have my word," he declared. "So… will you… can you tell me where he is?"

Zabini smirked. "The same place you would go if you were miserable as hell and just wanted to be surrounded by happy memories for a while."

Harry stared at him. Of course. It was so fucking simple.

"I'm an idiot," he declared.

"Very true," Zabini agreed. "Now get going, Potter. And please, do it right this time?"

"I will," Harry promised. On an impulse, he marched over and grabbed the Slytherin in a hug. Zabini gawked and flailed and Ginny burst into laughter. "Thank you," Harry murmured. "Thank you so much."

"I'll consider myself thanked for life if you promise not to do that again," Zabini snapped, pushing him off. "Start working on Phase One. Remember, words are  _not_  enough. You need to prove that…"

"I already have it figured out," Harry replied. He did, really.

" _What?_ " Zabini gaped. "What are you going to…"

"Good luck in the Finals, Zabini," Harry shouted as he headed out the door. "I'm rooting for you."

"What?" Zabini called after him. "You play for the Canons, you moron!"

But Harry was already racing back to his apartment. He felt lighter and better than he had in days. Now it was only a matter of chasing Draco down again. And Harry would.

In a heartbeat.

 


	20. The End of this Crazy Tale

"So, have we learnt what happens when you mix Monkshood extract with powdered lacewing?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The inherent properties of the elements will react, rendering the potion explosive," Jack intoned sullenly. He would know, of course. He was currently sporting several globs of said potion in his robes and hair.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Draco chuckled. "Now, let's try it again."

"I'm bored!" Jack pouted. "Can't we go flying, Draco?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "No, you impertinent little brat, we cannot go flying. When I'm tutoring you I am your teacher, not your friend."

"But you  _are_  my friend," Jack grinned slyly. "And you know you want to go flying too…"

"What I want is for you to pass Potions so I can finish my research paper in peace," Draco drawled. "You will prepare the ingredients at the very least. If and  _only_  if you do it properly, you can go."

Jack pouted. "You let Billy Johnson go flying…"

"Billy Johnson didn't decimate half the classroom with his concoction," Draco drawled, grading some papers Slughorn had 'forgotten'. "Keep slicing."

Jack worked in silence for all of thirty seconds before perking up again. "Slughorn's retiring next year," he chirped. Draco sighed. He was never going to get his paper done, it was time to accept it and move on.

"I'm aware," he replied. "Cut diagonally, and keep the slices as thin as possible."

"Will you be our new Potions Master?" Jack demanded.

"I… don't know," Draco replied. McGonagall had practically offered him the post, but he didn't want to get his hopes too high. That hadn't worked out well for him in the past.

"My mother says you shouldn't be allowed here," Jack pointed out. Draco stiffened. "Oh?" he asked, trying to sound neutral.

"I told her she's wrong," Jack carried on. "And that she shouldn't judge people without knowing them." He sounded incredibly proud of having told his mother off. Typical reckless Gryffindor.

"Thank you, Jack," Draco smirked. "However if you fail your Remedial Potions class, I  _will_  most certainly be kicked out. So keep at it, okay?"

He left the little boy to his potions and stepped out of the classroom. Jack would be fine slicing ingredients. Even he couldn't mess that up. Satisfied, Draco walked out of the dungeons and into the hallway.

He wasn't entirely sure what had made him come back to Hogwarts, but it had been good for him. There was still gossip and idle chatter about his… situation, but they were children and they didn't mean any harm. Plus, he could always deduct house points. McGonagall had been extremely helpful and he had discovered a new respect for the Headmistress who had accepted him so readily. It was a happy life, a peaceful one - and he enjoyed it. If it wasn't for the nights when he woke up with an inexplicable ache inside him, longing for the times when he had been here with… but that was in the past. He had moved on. He  _had_.

Or he would, at least.

He grabbed a piece of toast in the Great Hall and waved off Horace's admonishments to "sit down for once and eat an actual breakfast." Draco could survive on toast and the despair of Hufflepuffs just fine. He did like to read about the outside world every now and then, though. So he nicked  _The Prophet_  from the Heads' Table and slinked off. He didn't read it very often, just sometimes. And not to check up if there was anything about Harry in the papers, thank you very much. Of course, it had been gratifying to know that Rita Skeeter had been fired last week for _biased journalism and irresponsible slander without supporting evidence_.

Thank you, Father.

He skimmed the paper and nearly choked on his toast. The headlines blazed at him from the page.

_**Canons Seeker Quits Team, Fans Devastated** _

_In a startling turn of events, the Chudley Canons have announced that their star player and team Seeker - Harry James Potter - has resigned and will not be participating in the Season Finale. The announcement, made yesterday - barely a week before the World Cup - has left the country reeling. The Canons have had a sterling season so far, their best in years according to varied sources. Mr Potter who has been playing professional Quidditch for over four years cited personal reasons for leaving the team. "It was a great ride and I enjoyed it," he said. "It's just not where I'm supposed to be anymore." Mr Potter declined to comment on the whereabouts of his fiancé, Draco Malfoy. Fans across the country have expressed shock and outrage at the decision, but faith in the Canons remains strong. "Heidi Green will prove to be a brilliant Seeker," said team captain Oliver Wood. "And our new chaser…"_

Draco stopped reading and flung the paper away as if it had burned. His head was reeling and he leaned against a pillar to catch his breath. Harry had quit the team. He had resigned and given up his shot at the Cup. Everything he had ever wanted and he'd just given it away. It was… perplexing, he decided. And certainly none of his business anymore.

But  _why?_

And where was he now?

He didn't even realize that he was walking towards the Quidditch Pitch. He was so caught up in his rambling thoughts, that he didn't pay any attention to the random shouts and laughter on the Pitch. Until a familiar voice had him screeching to a halt.

"So when you make a turn, bend your knees just a bit. Not too much. You'll swerve. But if you don't, you'll drag and…"

Draco froze in shock, standing stock still and taking in the sight of his fiancé –  _ex_  fiancé –coaching a horde of eager Slytherins. One of them made a comment and Harry threw his head back and laughed. He pretended to whack the child with his broom and turned around. His eyes met Draco's and for a split second, the world seemed to collapse as Harry looked at him. It was intense and brutal to his frayed senses and Draco was simply appalled by the realization that he had missed him so damn much.

Harry swallowed and took a step towards him. Draco couldn't handle it. He turned and bolted.

* * *

 

He was aware of frantic footsteps thudding after him. It didn't surprise him at all that Harry was giving chase. He had pursued Draco relentlessly for four months, why would the bastard stop now? Except Draco had no intention of being caught. Not this time.

He practically flew down to the dungeons, weaving his way through random students and teachers, knocking over anything in his way. Harry refused to give up. He just followed Draco's trail of chaos, re-trampling people and crashing onwards.

Draco snarled in frustration. That's it. He was done. This was the last fucking straw!

He took a sharp right into a classroom and hid behind a door, waiting for Harry to follow. Sure enough, the idiot barged in looking around for him wildly. Draco stepped out from behind the door and picked up the biggest, heaviest tome he could find. Potter registered movement and turned. His eyes widened and he ducked, just in time to avoid a face full of Chapter 34.

"Stop  **chasing**  me!" Draco snarled, picking up another book. He threw that as well and Potter took cover behind a desk.

"Come out and fight like a man, Potter!" Draco shouted.

"Like a man?" Potter retorted, still cowering. "You're the one throwing books around like some bitchy teenager!"

Draco would have happily strangled him. "You have some nerve, Potter! You hunted me down _again!_  You dare to show your face here and now you're insulting me!"

"You're trying to behead me! I think we're even."

Draco nearly exploded. "How  _dare_  you say that? We will never be even! Not after what you did!"

"I know! I know! I'll spend my whole life making it up to you if you just stop trying to end it!"

"No!" Draco bellowed, throwing book after book after book, and not particularly caring if it hit or not. "I hate you! I left you! And I don't! Want! You! Here!" Each word was punctuated by a new book being hurled at Potter's stupid head. A sharp edge scraped his arm and he hissed but made no move to retaliate.

Draco didn't care. He threw everything he could find at Potter - books, manuscripts, the blackboard and most impressively, a suit of armour - but the man just took it. At some point, Draco sank to the floor in exhaustion and Potter cautiously poked his head out from the desk.

"Is it safe to come out now?" he asked tentatively, crawling over the rubble.

"Get lost, Potter," Draco mumbled without any real heat. The pain was setting in again, and Potter only brought back hurt and resentment. There was no room for anger.

"Draco," Harry whispered, crouching next to him. He looked like he was about one step from tears. "Oh Draco, I missed you…"

"Shut up," Draco snapped, hedging away. "And stay away from me."

Potter met him halfway. He sat down next to him, keeping a respectful distance. "I tried to find you," he murmured.

"I tried to make sure you couldn't," Draco replied.

"Why?" Harry asked, sounding genuinely hurt. "I get you're angry and upset, I do. But damn it Draco, I was… I didn't even know if you were dead or alive for a while. It killed me not knowing you were okay."

Draco didn't acknowledge that admission. "You quit the team," he said instead.

"It wasn't important anymore," Harry shrugged. "It never was, I think."

"What about the Cup?"

"I bet on Puddlemere United this year," Harry smiled. "They've got a pretty good Seeker."

Draco smirked before remembering who this was. He scowled at Potter. "Stop making me laugh. I'm angry with you,"

"Sorry," Harry said. "For everything, I mean. Not…"

"I know what you mean," Draco shrugged. "Do you expect me to come running back in your arms?"

Harry sighed. "No. Although that would be fucking brilliant. I miss holding you."

Draco mulled on that in silence for a while. Harry didn't interrupt him. "You should have told me," he said finally. "That it was just a contract. It wouldn't have hurt so much then."

"It wasn't," Harry cried. "Well, it was at first. But… I wasn't lying to you, Draco. I loved you more than anything. I still do."

Draco stared at him, eyes bright and throat clenched. "I…" he shuddered and looked away. "I can't say it back."

"You don't have to," Harry soothed, reaching out and touching his shoulder. He flinched but didn't move away. "I just wanted you to know that."

"Is that why you chased me down like a maniac?" Draco muttered. "Because you love me?"

"I chased you down because you ran," Harry smirked. "You always run."

"You always follow."

"I always will," Harry shrugged.

"Why?"

"Because if I keep chasing you, I'll catch you one day," he replied. "And I won't be stupid enough to let you go again."

Draco clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I can't do it, Harry," he whispered. "Not right now."

"Then don't," Harry insisted. "Don't do anything. Let me do it. Let me get to know you again. As friends, if you want. No more courting or dates or anything until you're ready.  _If_  you're ever ready. Just… don't run from me again. I'll never hurt you again, I promise. But I can't live through something like this again, Draco. I  _won't_  lose you, no matter how long it takes to earn your forgiveness."

"What if it's never?" Draco asked tonelessly.

"Then it's never," Harry shrugged. "That's my problem. Not yours."

"Oh." He didn't quite know what to say after that. It felt good, having that burden lifted from his shoulders. But that was what Harry always did. He took care of him. He looked after him. He… loved him.

"When will I see you again?" he asked Harry.

The Gryffindor grinned sheepishly. "Every day, I imagine."

"What?"

"I… okay, don't be mad. And please don't throw anything at me, I wasn't stalking you or anything, I swear. I mean, I hadn't really thought about it until I knew you were here but I always wanted to and then it just made sense and…"

"Potter,  _what_  did you do?" Draco growled.

Harry mumbled something that Draco couldn't catch. "I'm sorry, what?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I said I'm the new Quidditch Coach for Hogwarts. Or I will be soon. Hooch is retiring in a month so I'm assisting her right now. But soon I'll be taking over the…"

"You what?" Draco blurted. "You're… teaching? Here?"

Harry nodded.

Draco gaped at him. "But… professional Quidditch and… teams would be falling over themselves to have you! You  _love_  Quidditch. You wanted to win the Cup! You're not… are you seriously giving all that up?"

"It's time," Harry replied. "I had my fun and it was brilliant. But, I just have more important stuff to focus on than some shiny trophy. Like my… boyfriend?" He sounded timid and awkward and Draco felt a surge of tenderness in his chest.

"You don't have to do that for me," he said, putting a hand on Harry's. "It's what you do and you love it."

"No, I love  _you_. And this isn't about you, not entirely. It's just that… it was great, playing with the Cannons. But honestly, the most fun I ever had was with these kids, watching them fly and loving it. Showing them how to catch the Snitch, watching Gryffindor and Slytherin fight it out. And if Billy Johnson makes it into the Cannons one day and I'm the one who got him there, I think I can live with that."

Draco chuckled. "So you're sure about this?" he asked. "Giving it all up and staying here?"

"I've never wanted anything more," Harry replied. "Except you, probably," he added with a nudge to Draco's shoulder.

Draco flushed and stared at the book in his hands, fiddling with it. "I really should throw this that you," he muttered grudgingly. He sighed and chucked it away. "Like  _that's_  ever helped before." Harry laughed and Draco smirked, stopping to give him a quizzical look. "You're never really going to bugger off, are you Harry?"

Harry grinned and squeezed his hand. "Never," he promised.

 


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Four Years Later…**

"Damn it!" Draco snarled, throwing cushions around in his panic. The object of his immediate attention still eluded him and he could have screamed. Except that would have been a waste of time and he didn't  _have_  any to spare!

"Where  _is_  it?" he snarled, descending on the bookshelf next. Off with  _Moste Potente Potions_. To hell with  _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean Guide: The Ultimate Collection_. And the  _Taming of the Shrew_  could… well, maybe not that one. He was rather fond of it.

"Trouble, love?" Harry asked, poking his head in the door.

"My wedding ring!" Draco bit out, still agitated beyond belief. "I can't find it anywhere!"

"Calm down," Harry chided gently.

"Do  **not**  tell me to calm down, Potter!" Draco snapped. "If you want to make yourself useful, help me look! It has to be here somewhere! I…"

"Oh, do shut up," Harry muttered, pulling him back and slipping his mouth over Draco's. It was a tried and tested method and it had never failed him yet. Sure enough, Draco sighed and stopped decimating their living room. "Now," Harry said, breaking away from him. "Where did you see it last?"

"See what?" Draco blinked, still somewhat dazed. "Oh, the ring. On my finger obviously! You know I never take it off."

"Considering it took me three years to put it on, I should hope so," Harry grumbled. "Come on, I'll help you look."

Twenty minutes later, Draco was close to hysterics and the ring was nowhere to be found. And they were  _really_  late for the wedding. Harry lost patience and cast an  _Accio_ , wondering why he hadn't thought about it in the first place. A sliver of gold whizzed past him and ever the Seeker, he snatched it up. At least, working with kids kept him sharp as a tack.

"Oh thank Merlin," Draco gasped in relief, slipping it on. "Where was it? And why is it…"

Harry grinned, mischief glinting in his eyes. "In the lube jar," he chuckled. His husband flushed in abject mortification and attempted to bury himself in the couch cushions. Harry hauled him up, indulging himself with a snog in the process.

"None of that," he admonished. "We're really late. And I don't fancy facing an angry bride."

"Another Slytherin-Gryffindor wedding," Draco smirked. "We've started a dangerous precedent." He wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed along his jawline, placing little licks and nips along the way.

"Come on," Harry groaned, dredging up the remains of his self-control. "We're really going to be late."

"Five more minutes," Draco insisted, continuing his tantalising ministrations.

"Suit yourself," Harry replied, hissing as Draco nipped at his ear. " _You're_  the one who has to walk her down the aisle."

Draco's eyes widened in unmistakable fear for his life. "Fuck!" he bellowed, bolting for the Floo. Harry snickered and sauntered off leisurely behind him.

* * *

 

They bolted in to the chapel with seconds to spare, immediately finding themselves face to face with a furious redhead. Harry gulped and Draco took a step back.

"Where  _were_  you?" Ginny hissed, looking absolutely livid. Her pale gown accentuated her fiery hair, not to mention the deadly flash of her eyes. "Blaise is drowning himself at the bar and I warn you I am  _not_  dragging his semi-conscious arse through the Floo again! I happen to be a _very_  small woman!"

"You look beautiful," Draco said, kissing her cheek in an attempt to placate her. "Blaise is one lucky bastard."

"Yeah well, tell him if he doesn't hurry up and propose  _that's_  going to change," Ginny groused. "Four years, goddamn it! What's he waiting for? Merlin's Second Coming?"

"He's working on it," Harry assured her.

"He better be!" she snapped. "For the love of Morgana,  _everyone_  is married except me! Which reminds me - Draco, the bride is looking for you. Hurry up and get this party started so I can catch that bloody bouquet!"

They watched her stomp off with stifled grins. "So much for  _nobody's going to take me down without a fight_ ," Harry quipped.

"I hope she doesn't kill him before he picks out the ring," Draco smirked. He straightened out his robes and grinned at Harry. "See you in a bit?"

"I'll go check on the groom," Harry nodded. "Apparently Blaise is doing a bang up job as Best Man. They could probably use my stand in services."

"I'll see you at the altar," Draco nodded.

"Just like old times," Harry winked. Draco watched him leave with a fond smile, and then took off in search of the bride. He found her having a mini breakdown in her dressing room.

"There you are!" she declared, in that exasperated lilt he loved so much. "Honestly Dragon, its past three!"

"I'm here now, Aunt Andromeda," Draco smiled reassuringly. "Everything is under control."

"Oh I hope so," she fretted, patting down her beautiful beige robes. Her hair was done up in an elegant bun, highlighting her regal features. She looked sophisticated and noble and just beautiful. Draco's heart clenched. If he tried really hard, he could see his mother in her.

"What is it?" Andromeda asked.

"You just… you look so much like…" he looked away embarrassed.

Andromeda looked stricken. "Oh Dragon," she cried, pulling him closer. Draco melted into her warm, feminine embrace. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you. Please don't think ill of me. I could never even  _dream_  of taking your mother's place. She was my baby sister and I loved her dearly. It's just…"

"Hush," Draco cut in softly, cupping her face in his larger hands. "It's not that at all. I'm just so thankful to you for being here with us. It's like a part of her is still here. I miss her terribly, but you're here and so is Father. And you will always have my best wishes. You make him so happy and I want that for you."

"I love you, Dragon," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "You're the son I never had. And I am so proud of the man you've become."

"You helped," Draco smiled. He gave her a quick peck before offering his arm. "Shall we? Father is probably going spare."

She laughed. "You left Harry in charge, I hope? Last I heard, Lucius was hollering for him up and down the halls."

"He'll survive," Draco grinned. "Ready?"

"Terrified," Andromeda confirmed, with a breathy whisper.

"Don't be. It's easy," Draco replied. "Now come on. Let's get you married."

* * *

 

"They look happy, don't they?" Draco smiled, resting against Harry's chest as they twirled on the dance floor. He felt his husband's chin lift from his head to get a good look at the happy couple.

"Andromeda looks happy," he announced. "Lucius looks…well, he's not  _dead_ , I suppose."

"That's how he always looks," Draco retorted. "Trust me he's doing an Irish jig on the inside."

Harry snorted. "There's an image that will stay with me," he snickered. Draco swatted his arm out of habit and Harry responded with a gentle squeeze. Draco smiled and tilted his head up, angling for a kiss. Harry was never one to refuse such a pretty offer. He bent his head to trace Draco's lips with his. This …was perfect.

"I am through with you, Blaise Zabini! Through! To think I gave up smoking for you!"

Harry sighed and Draco thunked against his chest before reluctantly disentangling himself. "Let's go," he said, tugging Harry's hand. "I don't think she believes it now, but she'll want all of Blaise's body parts intact in the morning."

The shouting got louder as they made their way to the gardens. Ginny was a tiny inferno, glaring down at her boyfriend. Said boyfriend was currently sprawled on his back, wearing a flower arrangement. "Come on, Red, "he whined. "Help a fellow up."

"Help yourself up!" she hissed lividly. "I am going  _home_. And if you darken my doorway again I'll stick that precious broomstick of yours  **right**  up your…"

Harry cleared his throat meaningfully. "What?" Ginny snapped.

"Just thought we'd check in, see if everything's okay," Draco ventured.

Ginny emitted a rather hysterical laugh. "Actually Draco, no. Everything is  _not_  okay. I am tired, my boyfriend has commitment issues and I just want a damn cigarette! Is that too much to ask? One c-cigarette?"

Draco sighed and opened his arms, allowing the sniffling girl to curl up against him. He pet her hair gently, as Harry helped Blaise up. "What's she so upset about?" Blaise demanded, staring at Ginny.

"Mate, it's time to go home," Harry advised. "I'll take you back to your old flat, yeah?"

"I live with Ginny," Blaise informed him.

"You do not!" she sniffed, hiding in Draco's shoulder.

Blaise stared at her for a second and brushed his robes off. He looked steadier than before. Apparently, Ginny's breakdown had touched a rather sober chord inside him. "Give her to me," he ordered Draco.

"Blaise, I really don't think…"

"Draco. Hand her over. Now."

Reluctantly, the blond let her go to Blaise. Ginny bawled against his chest and the Italian wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair and murmuring gently in her ear. "My firefly," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"I hate you," she sobbed. "You're a complete b-bastard. And you  _always_  get the wrong olive oil and I just hate you!"

"Shh," Blaise chided gently. "I'm sorry,  _cara_. I've been an arse, I know. Please forgive me."

Ginny sniffed and nodded reluctantly. "Take me home," she ordered.

"In a minute," Blaise replied. "There's something I want to give you first."

"I swear if it's a hickey I'm going to…"

He chuckled and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "It's a little more than that," he grinned, fumbling around in his robes. "Stupid thing is stuck," he grunted, tugging harder. Ginny rolled her eyes, and wiped away a smudge of mascara from her nose. Blaise finally excavated whatever it was he was looking for and held it up in triumph. "Got it," he announced, flipping the box open.

Ginny's jaw dropped. Harry exchanged a delighted grin with Draco.

"It was my grandmother's," Blaise explained, picking the ornate ring up delicately. "The truth is that I wanted to give it to you the second I laid eyes on you. But this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I never knew true happiness until I met you Ginny, and every second without you feels like a waste of time. It's a scary thing to love someone so much. And it scared me for a long time. I kept telling myself it wasn't the right time or the right place. But every moment with you  _is_  right and I don't want to lose that. Ever. I know I'm not half the man you deserve but I love you with all my heart, Firefly and I'm hoping that will be enough. And if you'll have me, I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you. So I guess what I'm saying is… Ginny, will you marry me?"

There was a second of earth crushing silence around them. And then Ginny sobbed and barrelled straight into Blaise's open arms. He stumbled and righted himself as she plastered herself against him. "This is a yes, right?" he asked his friends doubtfully.

"Absolutely" Harry smirked. "Exactly the way Draco reacted when I proposed."

"Potter!" Draco snapped, shoving him playfully. "I didn't cry that much. For Merlin's sake, she's  _wailing!_ "

"Shut it Draco," Ginny mumbled, still wrapped up in her fiancé. She looked up at Blaise and pressed a kiss to his chin. "I love you."

"And I love you," Blaise replied. "Now about that hickey…"

Ginny laughed. "I saw a coat closet in the hall. Race you there?"

"No scandalising the elderly!" Draco called after them. "We just got them married, we don't need twin heart attacks!"

Harry laughed and pulled him against him. "Let them go," he grinned. "Courting is half the fun of it."

"Oh?" Draco smirked. "And what's the other half?"

Harry traced Draco's jaw with his fingers. "Everything I've ever wanted," he replied quietly.

Draco smiled and pulled him into a kiss. "Ditch the party and shag at home?" he asked, when Harry finally let him pull away.

"Race you there," Harry smirked.

He grinned as his husband sprinted off in search of the nearest Floo. And then he did what he had always done best. He chased after Draco, and caught him.

**END**


End file.
